


Walk the Line

by FrankenSpine



Series: A Hero's Journey [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Assumptions, Asthma, Character Death, Closeted Character, Complete, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Identity Issues, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Murder, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Suicide Attempt, Physical Disability, Prejudice, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Struggle, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 103,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: Emma was born without legs, and uses her arms to get around.  She has enough difficulty in her life as it is, but when ten-year-old Henry shows up at her apartment claiming to be her son, things get much more complicated for her.  Throw in an attraction to his gorgeous mother, and Emma finds her life has changed forever.





	1. Chapter 1

When Henry rang the doorbell of the apartment, he felt like his heart was in his mouth, pounding like a violent drum. He waited on baited breath, shifting nervously from one foot to the other and wringing his hands behind his back. He had come all this way to find his birth mother, and throughout the entire trip, he’d been completely confident that he would meet her, and that she would accept him and welcome him with open arms. Now, however, he was overcome with anxiety. 

What if she didn’t accept him? What if she shouted at him? What if she got angry and told him to leave? As terrifying as that was, he knew it would be nothing compared to the wrath of the Evil Queen back home. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and an emptiness in his stomach. He stared down at his shuffling feet, coming up with a myriad of excuses and apologies for when he inevitably faced the Queen. 

He couldn’t bring himself to call her his mother. How could he? She was evil. She didn’t really love him. She was incapable of love. She was manipulative and cunning. She was a liar. She’d lied to him his entire life, he realized, and now he was going to have to go back with her. 

All he could do was hope that his real mom would come with him. Then she could protect him from the Evil Queen, and fulfill her destiny as the Savior by breaking the Dark Curse. The book in his satchel would tell the woman everything she needed to know. 

His head shot up when he heard quiet shuffling behind the green door, covered in line after line of cursive. If only he could read it. His mother— err, the Queen— had been adamantly pushing the school-board to incorporate cursive into the curriculum, but they still hadn’t discussed it yet. 

When the door finally opened, he was overcome with confusion upon finding no one there. He heard someone clearing their throat, leading him to look down. He was shocked to find a blonde woman with tired, green eyes and a look of stoicism masking her pale face, completely void of makeup. She almost looked like a corpse. What truly astonished him was the fact that she only came up to his chest, but it wasn’t that she was short. 

She had no legs. 

She stared blankly at him. “Can I help you?” she uttered.

He blinked dumbly for a moment. “Are— Are you Emma Swan?”

“Who wants to know?”

“M-My name’s Henry.”

“And?”

“I’m your son.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, only to practically fly off her forehead as her eyes widened in what seemed like horror and disbelief. Frantic, she swiftly turned away, scrambling down the short hallway and into the kitchen, pulling herself along hurriedly with her arms. They were quite muscular, Henry noticed, likely from having to use them in place of legs. 

He was completely taken aback. Of all the things he had expected, this was certainly not one of them. Was she in some sort of accident? Or was she born that way? He couldn’t help but to feel sorry for her. 

“Hey, wait!” he called. 

“I-I need a minute!” she replied, clearly distressed. 

Now Henry felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to freak her out, although in hindsight, he supposed he should have seen it coming. More importantly, he didn’t want her to think that having no legs was something to be ashamed of. 

He stepped tentatively into the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him and making his way into the kitchen. To his surprise, everything was made just as it would be for the average person. The furniture was lower to the ground, but the counters were high— certainly for a woman with no legs. It was then that he noticed the wooden step-stool near the stove. It was equipped with a set of wheels. 

He looked up when he heard a different set of wheels rolling along the hardwood. The woman was scooting herself towards him on an old skateboard. He locked eyes with hers as she approached him, studying them carefully. They were rimmed with a faint pink, as though she’d been crying. He hated to think that he was the reason for her tears. 

She stared back at him with her sea-green eyes, like she was trying to pinpoint any similarities to her within his features. Henry did the same. He noticed almost immediately that she had virtually the same nose and the same chin. 

“You need to go home, kid,” she said at last, “Where do you live? I’ll call a cab.”

“Storybrooke, Maine.”

Emma’s eyes were suddenly the size of the moon. “What?! Maine? How the hell did you get here? How did you even find me?”

Henry shrugged. “I took the bus,” he said simply. 

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning in frustration. She then hung her head with a sigh of defeat. 

“Look, kid,” she said, “I have enough on my plate as it is. You can’t just show up here, claiming I’m your mom. You need to leave, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I sent a kid back to Maine by himself. I guess I’ll have to drive you.”

“You can drive?”

Emma met his surprised gaze with a frown. “Of course I can,” she said bitterly, “What, you think just because I’m a freak that I can’t drive a car?”

Henry gasped. “What? No! I didn’t mean— You’re not—” 

“Let’s go,” Emma said, leaving no room for debate as she swiped her keys from the counter.

She rolled past him on her skateboard, leading him down the small hallway and towards the door. She flipped the lights off and locked the door the moment Henry stepped outside. Without checking to see if he was still following her, she made her way towards the nearby elevator, and the boy followed suit. Neither of them said a word the entire way down. 

At last, they reached the residential parking lot, and Emma rolled herself towards a 60s model Volkswagen bug. It was entirely yellow, save for the small, rusted dent in the driver’s side door. She unlocked it, allowing Henry to get in while she opened the door to the backseat and tossed her skateboard inside. She then climbed into the driver’s seat and fumbled with her keyring a bit before locating the car-key. 

The car sputtered a bit as Emma started it, but afterwards, it seemed perfectly fine. Henry watched her curiously as she drove away from the apartment complex and onto the highway. There was a small orange knob attached to the steering wheel and a long lever on the opposite side, which she never once let go of. 

“What’s that?” he asked naïvely. 

Emma glanced at him quizzically. “Huh? What’s what?”

“On the wheel.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, “It helps me steer.”

“What about the lever?”

“It controls the pedals.”

“That’s cool.”

“Not really,” said Emma.

Awkward silence fell between them for what felt like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

“So,” Emma said at last, “Where did you say you were from, again?”

“Storybrooke.”

The blonde scoffed. “Storybrooke? Seriously?”

Henry just nodded. “Yep.”

“Never heard of it. I’m guessing it’s a small town?”

“Yeah. It’s sort of isolated.”

“Hm. Everyone there know each other?”

“Just about.”

“Is it nice?”

Henry shrugged. “It’s alright. There’s a harbor.”

“You like to look at the ocean?”

“Sometimes, when the weather’s nice.”

“I think I’d like to live by the ocean,” Emma said softly, “Maybe get a little condo all to myself. Nothing too fancy. Just a place along the sand.”

She seemed less tense now. Her voice was kinder, gentler. She even had a faint smile on her face. Henry said nothing, not wishing to ruin the moment. He instead reached into his satchel and retrieved the large book he’d brought with him, flipping to what was easily the most important page. 

Emma noticed this from the corner of her eye and snuck a quick glance at the leather-bound book. There was an illustration of some sort, but it was too dark to see, and she needed to keep her eyes on the road. 

“What’s that?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“Excuse me?”

Henry winced. “Think of it as a revelation.”

“What is it, then? A fancy Bible? Trust me, kid, I’ve heard it all. I don’t need you preaching to me.”

“No, it’s not a Bible, and my name’s not ‘kid.’ I told you, it’s Henry.”

“Right. Sorry, k— Henry.” 

She carefully switched lanes so that she could make the next exit. She watched the boy from her peripheral. So this was her son. He did look a bit like her, though that seemed to be the extent of it. He acted nothing like her, but that was fine with her. She was sure it was fine with his parents, too, whoever they were. Any child who acted like her was a fucking monster, as well as a burden. Nobody wanted a kid with no legs. Although she would never admit it, she couldn’t help feeling grateful when the boy opened his mouth again. His voice distracted her from her bout of self-loathing.

“It’s a book of fairytales,” he told her at last.

“And you think I’m not ready to hear them? Why?”

“Because they’re true,” said Henry, “Every story in here actually happened.”

Oh, Jesus. The kid’s insane, thought Emma. She desperately hoped he hadn’t gotten it from her. Once again, she found herself wishing he would keep his mouth shut. As if having a legless child wasn’t enough of a burden. She felt bad for his parents, despite not knowing a thing about them.

“Right,” she said, clearly skeptical, “So, what are your parents like?”

Henry folded his arms. “I don’t have any.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother. I have what I like to call a ‘superpower.’ I can tell when anyone’s lying to me, and you, kid, are,” she told him. “Plus, your body language completely gave you away, and I see that nice coat and scarf you’ve got on. Last time I checked, kids your age didn’t have jobs to make money for those kinds of clothes. Mommy and Daddy must be well-off. Be grateful, bucko. You’ve got nice clothes, a roof over your head, and parents who must be worried sick about you. I’ll never understand why you would do something like that to them.”

“Like what?”

“What do you mean ‘like what?’ I mean running away! Don’t you realize how terrifying it would be to come home and find out your son’s missing? That’s a really shitty thing to do, kid. Believe me, I’m no expert on parenting, but I know a thing or two about having the cops called on me after running— err, hobbling— away.”

“You mean you ran away, too?”

“More times than I can count,” said Emma, “At the time, I didn’t know why they wouldn’t just let me go. I was a real handful. I guess it worked out alright in the end, though. Looking back, I doubt I’d have survived out on the streets. I was young. I was stupid. I thought I could do anything. Kind of like you. I’ve gotta hand it to you, though. You got a hell of a lot farther than I ever did.”

\---

With Henry asleep, Emma was finally able to drive in silence. She wondered what sort of people had raised him. She couldn’t detect any signs of trauma in him, so she doubted he was being abused. His expensive clothes were enough to tell her that his folks were at least somewhat wealthy. 

She may not have had the most money, but she was content with her small apartment and her numerous hoodies, such as the one she had on now. They helped to hide the nubs where her legs should have been. 

She drove on in silence for about three more hours, nearly falling asleep herself. Henry woke up the second they crossed the border into Maine and pointed her in the direction of Storybrooke. She made her way along a seemingly-endless stretch of road, becoming increasingly-uncomfortable that there were no other cars around, nor streetlights of any kind.

“Alright, kid, where the hell are we? Is this a trick? I seriously don’t have time for this shit.”

“No! I told you, it’s just isolated.”

“How isolated?”

“There aren’t any other towns for at least fifty miles.”

“Whoa, kid, that’s a little weird. What is it, some sort of Amish village? You don’t look Amish.”

“No, nobody there is Amish,” Henry said firmly, “They’re just cursed.”

Emma gave him a deadpan expression. “Cursed? So it’s like the Salem Witch Trials, then? Are you gonna curse me, too?”

“I’m not a witch!” the boy protested, “It’s my mom— I mean, the Evil Queen! She’s the one who cast the curse! No one there knows who they really are!”

“Evil Queen? Curse? What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s all in the book! You’re in it, too!”

“Whoa, Henry, no,” Emma said, clearly concerned for the boy’s well-being. “No,” she said again, “It’s just a bunch of fairytales. It isn’t real, and I promise you, I’m not in it. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“But it’s true!”

“No,” she said firmly, “Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true.”

“That’s exactly what makes it true!”

Emma sighed. “That’s not how things work, kid. You can believe the sky is green all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still blue.”

“But—” 

“Enough!” Emma snapped, “I don’t wanna hear another word about that book, or fairytales, or belief, got it? And don’t bombard your folks with it, either. Your mom’s not some evil witch, and there’s no curse. Magic isn’t real, alright? It’s just pretend. Fantasy. Sure, sometimes it’s nice to escape into fantasy-land every now and then, but at some point, you have to wake up. The world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, kid. It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s rough. But it’s real. It sucks, but my God, it’s real.”

\---

Neither of them said anything until they were halfway through town. The streets were completely deserted. Emma was almost at a stoplight when she asked Henry for his address. 

“Twenty-Fourth ‘Not Telling You’ Street,” he told her.

She immediately pulled down the lever next to the steering wheel, and the car came screeching to a halt at the flickering stoplight. She was beyond frustrated. 

“Alright, smartass,” she said, “It’s super late, your parents are worried sick, and I don’t have time for games. Tell me where you live so I can get the hell out of here. I have a life, you know. I need to get back to it, ASAP.”

Before Henry could respond, there was a gentle tapping on the window. Surprised, Emma turned and found a redheaded man standing there, staring at her through his funky, round glasses. She reluctantly rolled down the window. 

“Hello?” she asked hesitantly.

“Evening,” the man said. He seemed friendly enough. Perhaps a little too friendly. “What brings you to Storybrooke? What are you doing with Henry?”

“Oh, I’m just dropping him off. He kind of forced me to when he showed up at my apartment. I know this looks weird, but I just drove here all the way from Boston, so if you can tell me where he lives, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Boston?! Henry, is this true?”

Henry couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s gaze. “Yeah,” he said sheepishly.

“Why would you do that? Your mother has been tearing this place apart trying to find you! And don’t you know how dangerous that was?”

“I’ll be careful next time, Archie.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Whoa, kid, there isn’t going to be a ‘next time.’ I’m not doing this again. If you show back up at my place, I’m just gonna call the cops. Really starting to wish I’d done that in the first place.”

“Well, I, uh, hate to interrupt,” said the redheaded man, “but the Mayor’s house is just around the corner on Mifflin Street. You can’t miss it.”

Emma looked at Henry in disbelief. “You’re the Mayor’s kid?”

Henry said nothing.

Emma just sighed. 

“Well, goodnight, then,” said the redheaded man, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Henry.”

“You, too, Archie.”

The man walked away with his Dalmatian into the cold night, and Emma turned back to Henry in frustration.

“You’re the fucking Mayor’s kid, and you think you’ve got it bad? You’ve got issues, kid.”

“Yep, and you’re gonna fix ‘em.”

Emma gave him a look of exasperation as she resumed driving. “Let’s just get you home.”

“Please don’t take me back there,” Henry begged.

“Nope! Not having it!” said Emma, “I drove three goddamn hours for this, and I’m not leaving until you’re back with your parents!”

“I don’t have parents! Just a mom, and she’s evil!”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I’m sure she’s just strict, but if that’s what she thinks is best for you, then so be it. Evil, though? That’s a bit much.”

“You don’t understand!”

“No! You don’t understand!” Emma retorted as she rounded the corner. 

A few houses down was an enormous white mansion, and she knew immediately that this had to be the Mayor’s residence. She gaped at it in awe. 

“My God,” she whispered, “You live here? Kid, you have no idea how lucky you are. You should be grateful. I don’t know how anyone could be so fortunate and insist their lives are shitty. You clearly don’t know a thing about being thankful for what you’ve got. I’d give anything to live in a place like that.”

The moment Emma pulled up along the sidewalk in front of the white mansion, Henry darted out of the car and towards the house in tears. So much for not wanting to go home. Emma figured she needed to be the adult and explain everything to the kid’s mother. She climbed carefully out of the driver’s seat and quickly retrieved her skateboard from the back. She then lifted herself and the skateboard up onto the sidewalk and rolled herself up the brick path towards the front door, where a gorgeous brunette was sobbing and hugging Henry as if never intending to let go.

“Henry!” the woman cried, “Where have you been?”

Henry pulled away defiantly. “I found my real mom!” he shouted, rushing past her and into the house. 

The brunette could only blink as she noticed the blonde woman riding towards her on a skateboard. She was stunned to find that the woman had no legs. 

“You’re Henry’s birth mother?” she asked.

“Hi,” Emma said awkwardly, “I, uh, I’m sorry about all this. He just sort of showed up at my apartment, so I figured I’d bring him back.”

“Thank you,” the brunette said sincerely, “Thank you so, so much, Miss…?”

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Miss Swan,” the woman repeated. 

Emma found that she liked the way the brunette said her name. She quickly shoved the thought to the back of her mind. Where did that come from? 

“How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?”

Emma offered a tight smile. “Got anything stronger?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I had anticipated, but I got a bit carried away. To be honest, I cried while writing it. I'm pleased with it, though. I hope you all enjoy it, too.

Emma shifted uncomfortably on the couch opposite the Mayor— Regina, she had learned— sipping her brandy in silence while avoiding the woman’s gaze. The alcohol calmed her nerves a bit, but she still felt exposed, and she was really wishing she had just gone home, rather than put herself in a situation like this.

“So, Miss Swan,” Regina said, catching the blonde’s attention, “Tell me about yourself.”

Emma swallowed nervously. “What do you wanna know?”

“Where are you from? What sort of job do you have? I want to know more about the woman who brought my son back.”

“I, uh, I’ve lived in Boston for about five months now,” said Emma, “I do odd jobs here and there. Lately I’ve been working at an old thrift shop not far from my place. I don’t make a ton of money, but that’s okay. I still get by.”

Regina suddenly stood up and walked over to the desk nearby, pulling something out of the top drawer and scribbling on it with a pen. When she turned back around, Emma realized she was holding a checkbook.

“Here’s a check for a thousand dollars.”

Emma’s eyes nearly burst from her head. “What?! No, no, you don’t have to do that, really!”

“Please, I insist,” said Regina, “It’s the least I can do. I owe it to you for having to go through all this trouble.”

Emma could tell the woman was being sincere, but there was something missing. Something not quite right. She couldn’t help wondering if she was being given the money out of pity. Anger sparked within her. She didn’t want pity. She absolutely hated it. Loathed it. 

“I don’t need your money,” she said, “I’m fine.”

“Yes, but there has to be something I can do,” Regina argued.

“You poured me a drink,” said Emma, “I’d say that’s enough.”

“But—” 

“I really need to get going,” Emma said firmly, setting her empty glass on the table before climbing down off the couch. She pulled herself towards the door and out into the foyer with the Mayor hot on her tail. She retrieved her skateboard from its place next to the coatrack and hurriedly opened the door. 

She hopped onto the skateboard and rolled down the path to her car. As she reached the curb, she turned and saw that Regina was standing in the doorway, watching her in silence. Unnerved, she hurried to the car and tossed her skateboard inside and climbed into the driver’s seat. She sped off down the street without so much a glance at the gorgeous brunette.

“How could I have been so stupid?” she growled, slamming her fist against the wheel. “She doesn’t see me as a person. She’s just like everyone else! All she sees is a fucking circus freak! Offering me pity-money, as if I can’t take care of my-fucking-self! Why did I think she would be any fucking different?!”

Not knowing where else to go, Emma eventually pulled into a parking spot along the sidewalk in front of a diner. She shut the engine off and released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks. They just wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard she fought them. She leaned back in her seat as best as she could and closed her eyes, eventually crying herself to sleep. 

\---

She was awoken sometime later by a blinding light flooding in through the window. She groaned, shielding her eyes with her hand. Was the sun up already? She discovered that this was not the case when the light suddenly switched off. Behind it was the bearded face of a man with a silver star on his jacket. 

“Great,” Emma muttered, rolling down the window.

“Evening, ma’am,” said the man. 

He had a distinct Irish accent, which certainly came as a surprise to Emma. What was an Irishman doing in Storybrooke, Maine, of all places? 

“Is there a problem?” asked Emma.

“You’re not allowed to sleep in your car in public areas.”

“Sorry,” Emma told him, “I’m not from around here. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

The man studied her for a moment. “I figured as much,” he said, “Never seen a car like this in Storybrooke. I myself am an admirer of all things vintage. As for having a place to stay, you’ve conveniently parked in front of Granny’s.”

“Huh? The diner?”

“There’s a bed and breakfast just behind it,” said the man, “Unfortunately, the office is closed right now. You’ll have to wait until morning.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

“I’ll tell you what,” said the officer, “You can sleep here for the night, but just this once. Don’t let me catch you doing it again.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Emma, “I don’t plan on staying long. I’m just passing through.”

“Well, you’re our first visitor in almost thirty years,” the man told her.

“For real? That’s insane!”

The officer chuckled. “Yes, well, we’re a little hard to find.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Well, it’s nice meeting you. My name is Graham, by the way. I’m the Sheriff around here.”

“Why is the Sheriff out dealing with a parking violation? Don’t you have a Deputy or something?”

“Afraid not,” said Graham, “It’s just me. Always has been.”

“Wow. Isn’t that stressful?”

Graham shrugged. “Not really. There isn’t much crime to deal with around here. Just a fight at the Rabbit Hole every other night, and of course, the occasional parking violation.”

He smirked a bit, tucking his flashlight back into his belt. “You have a good night, ma’am.”

“You, too,” said the blonde, “and ‘Emma’ will do just fine.”

“Emma,” the Sheriff repeated, “Hm. Don’t know of any other Emmas in town.”

“None at all? It’s a pretty common name.”

“Not here, it seems. Well, you take care, Emma. Oh, and a word of advice: I recommend having breakfast at Granny’s. The apple pancakes are phenomenal.”

“That good, huh?”

“To die for.”

Emma offered the man a tight smile. “I guess I’ll have to check it out, then.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Be sure to ask for cinnamon.”

And with that, he walked away. 

\---

Morning came, and Emma reluctantly made her way out of the car and into the diner. It was seven o’clock, so there weren’t very many people inside. Just a few older people at the counter. They were either reading the menu or burying their noses in the newspaper, distracting them while Emma rolled her way through the dinner and towards the booth in the very back. She tried to be as discreet as possible, sliding her skateboard under the table and hoisting herself up into the seat with her back facing the door. 

Thankfully, no one saw her, and it was only after she was seated that a rather skimpy waitress emerged from the kitchen to take her order. 

“Never seen you here before,” the waitress commented, “What brings you to Storybrooke?”

“Just passing through,” said Emma. 

“Well, my name’s Ruby. What can I get you?”

“I’ve been told I should order the apple pancakes.”

Ruby grinned. “Let me guess, you spoke to the Sheriff.”

“How’d you know?”

“Graham’s been ordering apple pancakes for as long as I can remember. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat anything else.”

Emma chuckled. “He did seem pretty adamant about it.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ruby, “It’s a miracle he’s not the size of an elephant with all the pancakes he eats.”

She jotted the order down on her little notebook. 

“You want cinnamon on that?”

“Sure. He also said that made them better.”

Ruby snickered. “Of course he did. What can I get you to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

“Alright then,” said the waitress, “I’ll have that out for you as quick as I can.”

She disappeared back into the kitchen, only to return moments later with a tall glass of water, which she set carefully in front of the blonde stranger. 

“I noticed that yellow Volkswagen out front,” said Ruby, “Is that yours?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m jealous. Wanna trade me for my Camaro?” 

The blonde chuckled. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot of history with that Volkswagen.”

“Does it run okay?”

“For the most part, yeah.”

“Well, if you have any car trouble, there’s a body shop down the block. My friend Billy works there. I’m sure I could get him to fix it for you without charge.”

“Without charge? How does that work?”

Ruby grinned. “He’s had a crush on me for as long as I can remember. He’s almost like a puppy. He’ll do just about anything I want him to.”

Emma was about to respond when she noticed the colorful jukebox in the corner. 

“Hey, does that thing still work?”

“Huh? Oh, the jukebox? Yeah, but no one’s used it in a while.”

“Well, that’s about to change.”

The waitress chuckled. “You have fun with that. I’m going to check on those pancakes.”

Once Ruby was out of sight, Emma glanced around to see if anyone was looking. Seeing that they weren’t, she hopped down from the booth and quickly made her way over to the neon jukebox. Reaching into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she retrieved her wallet and pulled out a quarter, pushing it into the slot near the bottom and making her selection. 

Thankfully, the machine wasn’t too tall for her, so she had no trouble seeing her options. She grinned almost deviously when she spotted one of her favorite songs. Pushing the button, she swiftly returned to her seat as the majestic voice of David Bowie rang out through the diner. She happily drummed her fingers against the table, nodding her head in time with the upbeat music. 

‘…Fashion! Turn to the left! Fashion! Turn to the right! Oooooh, fashion! We are the goon-squad and we’re coming to town! Beep-beep!’

The bell over the door chimed, but Emma paid no mind to it. She was too lost in the music to notice (or care). It was only when someone entered her peripheral that she looked up. She expected to see Ruby standing there with her breakfast, but instead she found herself face to face with the Mayor. The color drained from her face almost instantly.

“Madame Mayor,” she said quietly, ducking her head so that she wouldn’t have to meet the brunette’s gaze. 

“Good morning, Miss Swan. I heard you spent the night in your car.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Won’t happen again.”

“Would you mind if I sat down? I’d like to speak with you.”

Emma cursed inwardly. Oh, fuck. No. No, no, no, no, no! She did not need this right now. Why didn’t she just leave the second she woke up? She wasn’t obligated to eat at this random diner in this random town no one’s ever heard of. She was a grown woman. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to let some stranger sit with her for a conversation she really didn’t want to have. 

“Sure.”

Damn it! What the hell is wrong with you, Swan?! 

Emma still couldn’t bring herself to look at the brunette as she took a seat across from her. Instead, she fumbled absently with her thumbs, no longer in a good mood. She desperately wanted to get out of there. She tried to think of something— anything— to help her escape the situation, but her mind was completely blank.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Regina, “for last night. For Henry. For everything. I also wanted you to know that it wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

“Who said I was upset?” Emma countered, unable to meet the brunette’s gaze. 

There was a pause.

“I hope you don’t think that I was judging you, Miss Swan,” Regina said softly, “If I said anything to offend you, I’m terribly—” 

“It’s fine,” Emma lied, “Everything’s fine.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” said the Mayor, “but I can’t help thinking otherwise. I offered you that check because you went through all the trouble to bring Henry back. If you won’t accept that, then at least allow me to pay for your breakfast.”

“No, you don’t have to—” 

“I’m sorry, Miss Swan, but I’m afraid I must insist. I can’t just let you leave without some sort of compensation. It wouldn’t be right.”

Before Emma could say anything, Ruby suddenly appeared and set her pancakes down in front of her, and she found that she wasn’t hungry anymore (not that she’d been very hungry to begin with). She stared at the pancakes with a pained expression. There was a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ruby didn’t seem to notice, much to her relief. Regina, however, was watching her like a hawk.

“Can I get you anything, Madame Mayor?” asked Ruby.

“Coffee will be fine, thank you.”

“How would you like that? The usual?”

Regina gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

“Alright. I’ll have that out in just a moment.”

“Thank you, Ruby.”

Ruby smiled. “My pleasure.”

The waitress disappeared into the kitchen yet again, leaving the two women alone yet again. Emma still couldn’t bring herself to meet Regina’s eyes, but she knew they were locked on her and only her. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable. 

“If you like, I could get you a discount on a room here,” Regina offered.

“Why?” rasped the blonde, “Why are you doing all this?”

“I told you, Miss Swan, you brought Henry back all the way from Boston. I feel obligated to repay you in some way.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree. I feel I haven’t done nearly enough, if anything at all. What would you like, Miss Swan? Name it. Anything. Say the word, and I’ll get it for you.”

Emma scoffed. “There are two things in this world that I want most, but no amount of money is going to get them. You’re wasting your breath.”

“And what might those two things be?”

The blonde’s fists tightened. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Regina pursed her lips. “I don’t know if I can get them for you, Miss Swan,” she admitted, “but I’m certainly going to try.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve tried that more times than I can count. Prosthetics don’t help me. They might have if I had at least one leg, but guess what? I don’t. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone, or anything— never have— now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta head to the ladies’ room.”

Emma kept her head down as she climbed out of her seat, pulling herself onto her skateboard and rolling around the corner towards the restrooms. She made it into the ladies’ room and was relieved to find it empty. Once she was locked securely in the handicap stall, she shimmied out of her little khaki shorts and hoisted herself up onto the toilet with the aid of the metallic rails. 

She then buried her face in her hands and began to weep uncontrollably. She felt miserable. She felt like an even bigger freak than usual. Worst of all, she felt incredibly guilty. She shouldn’t have snapped at Regina the way she did. The woman seemed sincere about helping her. Her lie-detector hadn’t once gone off. But why couldn’t she believe it? 

Why couldn’t she believe that someone genuinely looked at her and saw a normal human being? Why couldn’t she believe that there were good people out there who wouldn’t judge her for the way she looked? Because in her mind, it all seemed as nonsensical as the things Henry had told her.

She didn’t hear the bathroom door open, nor the quiet click of heels on the tile. The only thing that drew her out of her tormented thoughts was the sound of the Mayor’s concerned voice.

“Miss Swan? Are you alright?”

“Please,” Emma sobbed, “Please, just leave me alone.”

There was a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

The bathroom door creaked open and the clicking of heels faded into the distance as the door slowly swung shut. Then there was silence, save for the violent drum that was Emma’s heartbeat. 

\---

When she finally emerged from the restroom, Emma was beyond relieved to find that the Mayor had left, and that like before, no one was paying her any attention. When she climbed back into the booth, however, she was stunned by what she saw. 

There, tucked carefully beneath her plate, was a crisp ten-dollar bill. Next to it was a note written on a clean napkin in elegant cursive. It wasn’t signed, but that was irrelevant. She already knew who it was from.

‘Miss Swan, here is some money to pay for your breakfast. Keep the change. Thank you again, and I wish you all the best. P.S: I’m pleased to know I’m not the only Bowie fan around here.’

For reasons she couldn’t understand, Emma picked up that napkin, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her sweatshirt pocket. She ate only half of her pancakes, just to show that she at least made an effort to enjoy what the cook had prepared for her. Had it been any other day, she probably would have scarfed them down in seconds, but right now, she had no appetite. She sipped her water to quell the bile rising in her throat and to alleviate the burning sensation. 

She reluctantly picked up the money from under her plate and sat in uncomfortable silence until Ruby eventually emerged with the bill. $5.20. Despite her strong desire to do the opposite, she did end up keeping the change. 

It was obvious by the look on Ruby’s face that she wanted to know what the deal was between Emma and the Mayor, but she didn’t ask questions, and for that, Emma was extremely grateful. Instead, it was Emma who quizzed her.

“Is there any chance I could get a room?” the blonde asked quietly. 

Ruby smiled. “Of course!” she beamed, “Let me tell Granny. She’ll take care of that for you. The stairs to the B&B are in the back, near the restrooms.”

“Um, actually,” said Emma, “Is there a ramp or something?”

At this, the waitress blinked in confusion. “A ramp? Are you handicapped?”

Emma hesitated. “Uh, yeah,” she said quietly. She never did like using that godforsaken word, least of all to describe herself. 

“Oh, well, there’s one outside,” said Ruby, “Do you need me to help you? It’s a little steep.”

Emma quickly shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine,” she insisted, “Thanks, though.”

Ruby just nodded. “Sure thing.” 

The second Emma watched the waitress disappear into the kitchen, she hopped down and went straight for the exit, rolling out the door and onto the patio. Thankfully, it was still early, so there weren’t many people out yet. She headed for the ramp to her left and hastily pulled herself up using the convenient handrail. Ruby was right. It was indeed a steep ramp, thus making it harder for her to pull herself along. Still, she made it to the top and hobbled through the door with her skateboard rolling beneath her. 

There was an old woman standing at the counter with her back turned, talking to someone on an antique phone that looked like it was straight out of the sixties. Seeing a golden opportunity, Emma grabbed onto the wooden counter and pulled herself up, hanging on as hard as she could so that she seemed like she was standing, though she still looked short. It was better than nothing, she supposed. 

“Uh huh,” said the old woman, “Alright, will do. No, thank you. You take care now. Alright. Goodbye.” 

Hanging up the phone, the woman turned around to find a blonde stranger staring back at her. She adjusted her glasses to make sure she was seeing things correctly. The blonde was clad in a dark blue hoodie, completely disheveled and void of makeup, and appeared to be straining. For a moment, the old woman wondered if she was face to face with some kind of junkie. 

“How can I help you, Miss?”

“I’d like a room, please.”

The old woman smiled in delight. “Oh? Would you like the forest view, or the square view?”

“Forest is fine,” said Emma. 

“Alright,” said the old woman, “and what’s your name?”

“Emma Swan.”

This gave the woman pause. She blinked curiously at Emma. “Swan, you say? As in the woman who brought Henry back?”

The color drained from Emma’s face yet again. “Uh, yeah,” she said reluctantly. 

Did everyone know about this? How had the news spread this quickly? Emma was completely unnerved by the woman’s revelation.

“Well, I just got off the phone with the Mayor,” said the old woman, whom Emma had only just realized must have been Granny. “She informed me that she would be paying for your room.”

Emma groaned. “She didn’t. Oh my God, I told her not to do that.”

Granny chuckled. “She must really like you. She’s never shown such generosity to anyone aside from her boy. Certainly not to a stranger. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I’m a lot of things,” said Emma, “but ‘lucky’ isn’t one of them.”

Her words fell on deaf ears, for Granny was already busy retrieving a room key and jotting something down in a large notebook. The old woman turned the notebook around for her to sign, and Emma panicked, knowing she likely wouldn’t be able to hold herself up with just one arm. Still, she gave it a shot, sloppily scribbling her name on the empty line. Granny arched an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. 

Emma swiftly placed her palm back on the counter, struggling to maintain her grip. Her eyes widened in horror. Thankfully, Granny didn’t notice, as the woman was turned away from her again. Unfortunately, she wound up losing her grip on the counter and landed on the floor with a thud. She groaned in pain, and when she looked up, she was shocked to find Granny peering over the counter at her with an unreadable expression. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” said Granny, “I grew up watching FDR. I know what it looks like when people try to hold themselves up like that. Besides, did you really think I didn’t notice you roll through the door on that skateboard of yours?”

Emma could only gape at her. “I— I—” 

Granny waved her hand dismissively. “Relax, girlie. You’ve got every reason to try and hide it, but this is a small town, and people are gonna notice, much sooner than later.”

She offered a reassuring smile, speaking as though she’d given this little spiel a thousand times over. 

“Don’t worry. The folks here may be old-fashioned, but we do our best to keep an open mind. There are several people with disabilities. None quite like yours, but disabilities all the same. Little Timmy’s had to use a crutch all his life, and Mr. Gold’s been walking with a cane since he came home from the War.”

There was a sudden tapping, and the two women turned to find an older man in a suit standing there with a mask of stoicism plastered onto his face. He had shoulder-length hair and a wooden cane in his hand. He walked with a limp. Emma surmised that this was the man Granny had mentioned. How strange that he’d arrived immediately after. It was almost as if the sound of his name had summoned him. 

“Am I mistaken, or did I overhear my name?” he asked. 

His voice was calm, but there was a hint of venom in his words. His eyes were locked with Granny’s. He completely disregarded Emma as if she wasn’t even there. She couldn’t help feeling a little insulted, but decided it was probably best to stay silent. 

“Oh, I was just giving Emma here a little pep-talk,” Granny explained. She suddenly seemed a bit on-edge, which Emma found to be both bizarre and unnerving. 

Emma had never been one to believe in auras or souls or any of that mumbo-jumbo, but she couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling she got the second this man appeared. She felt nauseous, but she kept telling herself there must have been something wrong with those pancakes. The more she tried to assure herself of this, the more her internal lie-detector went off. The ringing in her ears was almost deafening, but the sound of the strange man’s voice pulled her back into reality.

“Emma,” uttered the man. 

Something in his voice changed in that moment. It suddenly seemed even more sinister, but Emma was sure she was just imagining things. He was just some creepy old man. Nothing more. Still, she couldn’t ignore the way his glossy, dead eyes lit up the second he heard her name. A chill shot up through her spine the second he locked eyes with her.

“What a lovely name,” he told her.

He then held out his hand expectantly, still staring down at Emma. It was like he was staring into her very soul. Emma was petrified. All she wanted to do was get the hell away from this man. She was getting a seriously-negative vibe from him that she just couldn’t shake. If there was anyone who would cast a curse on this town, it was definitely him. 

Granny placed a thick roll of cash into his hand, seeming to go out of her way not to actually touch him, as if he had some sort of contagious disease. 

“It’s all here,” she told him, clearly nervous.

The man simply nodded and tucked the money into his suit jacket. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Emma. He stepped back a bit. 

“Enjoy your stay,” he rasped, “Emma.”

And as quickly as he had appeared, the man was gone.

The second he disappeared, Emma released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She no longer felt nauseous. The negative vibe she’d detected was nowhere to be found. She was overcome with relief. Turning back towards the counter, she met Granny’s gaze with a look of bewilderment.

“Who the hell was that?” she asked quietly.

“That was Mr. Gold,” said the old woman, “the man I was telling you about.”

“Why did you give him all that money?”

“He owns this place.”

“Oh, so he’s your landlord.”

Granny swallowed nervously. “No,” she said, “He owns the town.”

Emma blinked at her in surprise. “The whole town?”

The old woman just nodded, not saying a word.

“You mentioned something about a war?”

“The War,” Granny clarified, “Nam. He’s been different since then. Colder. More distant. I can’t imagine the things he saw over there. He doesn’t talk about it, not to anyone. Not even me, and we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.”

“He didn’t seem very friendly to me.”

“Yes, well, he doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. He’s a very complicated man.”

Emma wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she said nothing. Granny offered her a warm smile and handed her a fancy room-key, which she gladly accepted.

“Welcome to Storybrooke,” said the old woman, “Oh, and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Life can be tough, but if you’re always down in the dumps, it’ll only get tougher.”

Emma pondered this for a moment, slowly nodding her head. Her lips twitched with a faint smile— a genuine smile— something she hadn’t allowed herself to do in such a long time. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

Granny’s smile widened. “You take care.”

“You, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was curled up on the bed, staring absently at the napkin Regina had left for her. Her eyes scanned the words again and again, but she was unable to truly focus on what they said. Her mind was blank. She felt numb. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t left yet. Why didn’t she just leave? Her life was back in Boston, not here. There was nothing for her here. So why did she feel the need to stay?

She was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden knock at the door, startling her. For a moment, she actually considered answering it, but then she heard that hauntingly-familiar voice— that voice which sent shivers down her spine and a delicious ache in her core that she had tried and failed to suppress— the Mayor’s voice. 

Regina’s voice.

“Miss Swan?”

That was all it took for a spark of heat to ignite a flame of passion within her. She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as she placed the napkin on the nightstand to her left. She rolled onto her side, turning her back to the door and pretending to be asleep. She didn’t know why she even bothered. It wasn’t like Regina could actually see her. Besides, the door was locked, so there was no way the woman could just walk in.

The silence that followed led Emma to believe that the brunette had simply given up and walked away, but of course, that wasn’t the case. Now there was a quiet knock, to which she responded by hastily grabbing a pillow and pressing it down over her ear to drown out the sound. It did little (if anything) to help.

“Miss Swan, please. All I want is to talk. Won’t you please come to the door?”

Emma said nothing. 

“Henry’s worried about you,” Regina said, as if that was supposed to mean something to her. 

Again, Emma said nothing.

“I’m worried about you.”

Now that was something Emma couldn’t just ignore. Her eyes flew open of their own accord. She reluctantly turned to face the door, and after a moment of deliberation, decided not to answer it. Her body, however, had other plans. 

It moved against her will, climbing out of bed and hobbling to the door in red underwear and a wife-beater. She wasn’t exactly in her right mind. Her thoughts were too muddled to notice (or care) that her attire was indecent, to say the least. She didn’t bother using her skateboard. The door wasn’t that far from the bed. She pulled herself across the creaky wooden floor and hesitantly unlatched the door. She opened it slowly, keeping her eyes downcast so that she wouldn’t have to meet the woman’s gaze. The thing she hated most in life was having people look down on her. 

“Are you alright, Miss Swan?”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Emma rasped, “Please? That’s all I want.”

Regina pursed her lips. “Loneliness will only make things worse, you know.”

“Can’t be much worse than being a freak.”

The brunette let out a quiet gasp. “Look at me, Emma Swan,” she said firmly.

For reasons she couldn’t understand, Emma obeyed. She tried everything she could to keep her eyes from meeting the Mayor’s, but her efforts were ultimately in vain. When she looked into Regina’s eyes, she swore she felt something shift in the air between them. Stunned, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as the brunette spoke. 

“Listen to me. You are not a freak,” Regina told her, “Everyone is different. If we were all the same, the world would be a boring place, don’t you think?”

“I— I guess so.”

“I mean it, Emma. You are not a freak. You shouldn’t talk to yourself that way.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Says who?”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but immediately closed it, unsure how to respond. She ducked her head and hugged herself tightly. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe— just maybe— Regina was right. 

“I just know,” she said at last. 

They both knew that wasn’t true.

Regina arched an eyebrow at this. “And how is that?”

Emma said nothing. 

The brunette sighed. “Look, Emma, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable here. As Mayor, I feel it’s an obligation,” she said, “but from one woman to another, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. Of course, you don’t have to, but Henry and I felt it would be nice. If you’d like to come, we’ll be eating around seven. You can always show up early, of course. I— we— would really appreciate it if you joined us.”

Emma’s mind immediately jumped to declining the offer, but her stomach demanded she go. She offered the brunette a noticeably-forced smile.

“Well, I’ve never been one to pass up a good meal,” she said sheepishly, “I hope you don’t mind me showing up in a sweatshirt. I didn’t exactly bring extra clothes, and I, um, don’t really have fancy clothes.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” said Regina. Emma could tell she was being sincere. “What you wear is of no concern to me. You’d be beautiful no matter what you wore.”

Both their eyes grew wide the second these words left the Mayor’s lips. Regina was horrified by her incidental revelation. She hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. 

Emma, on the other hand, was shocked for an entirely different reason. Was she just imagining things, or had Regina just told her she was beautiful? Indeed she had. Even more astonishing was the fact that her lie-detector hadn’t gone off. She studied the Mayor’s eyes for any signs of deception, but as she should have expected, there were none to be found. A genuine smile graced her pale lips. It wasn’t faint this time. It was wide. It was radiant. And in Regina’s eyes, it made her that much more breathtaking. 

“I’ll try to be there,” she said, “Should I bring anything?”

Regina smiled back at her. “Just yourself.”

Emma chuckled, though there was little humor in it, if any. “Well, that’s good,” she said, “because I’m all I’ve got.”

\---

Overcome with a sudden boldness she didn’t think she possessed, Emma got dressed and rolled her way down the hall, into the empty office, and out the door onto the ramp. She laughed in delight as she rolled down the metal ramp on her skateboard, much like she used to do when she was Henry’s age. She hadn’t exactly had the best childhood, but there were a handful of moments she could look back on with a smile. 

When she reached the bottom of the ramp, one of her skateboard’s wheels got jammed in a small hole in the wooden patio, causing her to topple over. Rather than letting it get her down, Emma chose to simply laugh it off. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Granny had said. Maybe it was better to try and stay positive, whenever possible. 

She pushed herself back up and pried her skateboard from the hole before making her way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t too crowded, but there were people walking by. She knew they were staring at her, but decided to let it go. She should have been used to it after nearly thirty years, but it still made her bitter. Not today. Today was going to be different. Today she was going to be New-and-Improved-Emma. At least, she was going to try.

She was almost to her car when she heard Graham calling her name. She hadn’t been here more than a day and she already knew it was him. Realistically, she knew it was because of his accent, but she still felt like they had somewhat of a connection. Nothing romantic, of course. Strictly platonic. 

“Emma? Emma, is that you?”

The blonde turned and found the Irishman blinking down at her in surprise. She smiled, though it wasn’t forced this time. It was entirely genuine. 

“Hey, Graham,” she said, “What’s up?”

“Well, I was just, uh, making my rounds.”

“On foot?”

“The car’s in the shop,” he explained, “It’s an 80s model.”

“Seriously?”

“Aye. Mayor Mills has been insisting we get a new one, but I rather like it. As I said, I’m an admirer of all things vintage. Oh, did you try the apple pancakes?”

“I did.”

Graham’s eyes lit up. “And how were they?”

Emma raised both thumbs. “To die for,” she said with much more enthusiasm than she felt.

The Sheriff grinned. “What did I tell you?”

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve had apple pancakes.”

“You’re kidding!”

Emma shook her head. “Gotta say, I had my doubts, but you were right.”

“I always am when it comes to pancakes.”

They shared a quiet chuckle. 

“So,” said Graham, “Where’re you headed?”

“The grocery store. Mind telling me where it is?”

“End of the street, just across from the ice-cream parlor.”

“Thanks, Graham.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Of course,” he said, “Oh, and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Really loving the board.”

“Huh? Oh! Thanks.” 

Emma studied the man’s face carefully. He was smiling friendlily at her, talking to her like she was a normal person. Maybe she had been wrong all along. Maybe people didn’t really look at her like a freak of nature. Maybe she was just projecting her own bitterness onto others. In that moment, it seemed like positivity truly was the solution to her problems. 

If only staying positive was that easy.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be staying long enough to go grocery shopping,” said Graham. 

“I’m just going to find something to make for dinner. Regina invited me over to her place. What kinds of things does she like?”

“Well, knowing her, she’ll most likely be making her famous lasagna. That’s the one thing I love more than apple pancakes.”

“Alright, lasagna’s out of the question, then. What about the kid? What does he like?”

“He’s not really a picky eater. I’d say he’ll eat just about anything, as long as it isn’t green.”

Emma chuckled. “Reminds me of myself.”

She froze. Amid all the insanity, it had completely slipped her mind that Henry had claimed to be her son. Sure, she could deny it. She could say that she had no children, and that he was mistaken. She could say she hadn’t given up a baby ten years ago, but none of it would be true. She tried not to think of just how much he really did look like her. She tried not to think of how much he looked like his father. 

“Emma? You alright?” asked Graham.

Emma rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Just peachy,” she lied. 

Graham looked at her skeptically, but didn’t question it. “If you say so,” he said with a shrug. He then reached into his leather jacket and retrieved an inhaler, taking a quick puff. 

“Didn’t know you had asthma.”

The Sheriff gave a crooked smile. “How could you have known? We only just met.”

“Good point.”

“You know, it probably isn’t good for me, but I rather like doing my rounds on foot. It’s a real problem. I love being in nature, getting some air, but my lungs can’t take it. What do you say I head down to the market with you? There’s a drug store nearby. I’ve got to get a refill, anyway.”

Emma smiled. “Sure,” she said as she hopped onto her skateboard, “Think you can keep up?”

Graham chuckled. “It’s probably best that I don’t run. My inhaler’s nearly empty, and I need to save as much of it as I can.”

“Alright then,” said Emma, “Hopefully your car will be fixed soon.”

“We could always use yours as a backup,” the Sheriff suggested.

Emma smirked. “Are you deputizing me?”

Graham shrugged. “Depends on if you want to be deputized.”

“I don’t think I’d be much help,” said Emma, “Thanks, though.”

“Well, there’s not much to do around here. Just eat pancakes and patrol the streets.”

“Aren’t cops supposed to eat donuts?”

“Not me,” said Graham, “I don’t need all that sugar.”

“What are pancakes, then?”

A smirk graced the bearded man’s lips. “Apple pancakes,” he said, “have very little sugar. I take them with cinnamon. Plus, they have fruit. That makes them healthy.”

Emma chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s how that works, but whatever you say.” She began pushing herself down the sidewalk, and the Sheriff walked slowly alongside her. 

“So,” said Graham, “you said you were having dinner at Regina’s. Have you decided what to bring?”

“No, not yet. She told me I didn’t have to bring anything, but I feel like I should. I haven’t exactly been polite to her. I feel bad. She’s been trying to do all these nice things for me, and I just keep shooting her down. Honestly, the only reason I accepted her invitation to dinner was because of the food. I know that sounds petty, and it probably is, but it’s hard for me to trust people. It always seems like they have some ulterior motive.”

“Ulterior motive?”

“Yeah,” Emma said quietly, “I’ve had people try to ‘help’ me in the past. Turns out they were only trying to help themselves. They didn’t really want to help someone in need. All they wanted was for other people to think they were being kind and generous. The truth is, they were scumbags who only cared about themselves. Hate to say it, but sometimes I think they might have rubbed off on me.”

“What do you mean?”

Emma laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Look at me, Graham. I’m an absolute wreck. I can’t do things everyone else can do. I have to push myself around on a fucking skateboard and do everything I can to ignore the way people look at me. They look at me like I’m a freak, like I’ll never amount to anything, and you know what? They’re probably right. What good am I? I’ve been trying to stay positive, I really have, but right now, that doesn’t seem possible. All my life, people have seen me as some sort of victim, like I need saving. I can’t stand it, but even that’s not as humiliating as the people who talk down to me like I’m a child. They treat me like I’m some brain-dead halfwit. I don’t think there’s anything I hate more than that.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t see you as a victim. You might not believe it, but that’s the honest-to-God truth. I know we’ve only known each other for less than a day, but I feel like we’re already friends. I like you, Emma. You’re easy to talk to. I like talking to you. I like that you say what’s on your mind. I wish there were more people like that around here. Sure, everyone in town knows each other, but it’s all superficial. They only show what they want people to see. They only say what they want people to hear. You’re different, not just because of how you look, but because of who you are. I respect that, Emma. I respect you. I respect you because you’re strong. You’re not a victim. If anything, you’re a hero. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you look them in the eye and you tell them to kiss your arse.”

Again, Emma laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. Tears were streaking her face. Her skateboard stopped rolling, and Graham stopped to look at her. He carefully sat down with his back against the wrought-iron fence and took another puff from his inhaler. Turning, he met the blonde’s watery eyes with a look that Emma recognized as one not of pity, but of sympathy. They each found it to be a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered. 

Graham smiled. “It was nothing.”

“No,” said the blonde, “It’s everything.”


	4. Chapter 4

The doors slowly slid open, likely due to old age and lack of repair. After what seemed like an eternity, Emma was able to roll into the market. She kept her eyes forward so as to ignore the stares she was receiving from the other shoppers. It was a lot harder to ignore the whispers. She may not have heard exactly what they were saying, but she knew the gist of it. As she rolled down an empty aisle, the whispers faded. In their place was the soft voice of Frank Sinatra emitting from an unseen speaker. 

‘…I’ve loved. I’ve laughed and cried. I’ve had my fill, my share of losing, and now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing, to think I did all that, and may I say— not in a shy way— oh no. Oh no, not me. I did it my way. For what is a man? What has he got? If not himself, then he has naught to say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels. The record shows, I took the blows, and did it my way.’ 

Emma’s lips curled into a soft smile as she allowed her mind to escape into the music. It was a welcome distraction. She didn’t just hear it. She felt it in her soul, if one could call it that. She paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, just focusing on the music and its meaning.

‘Yes, it was my way.’

And like that, it was over. She opened her eyes and continued on down the aisle, scanning the shelves for something— anything— to bring to Regina’s. It had to be something quick and easy, but also enough for three people. She wasn’t the best cook, but she did make some damn good mac and cheese. She was sure the kid would like that. Regina, on the other hand, didn’t seem like the type of person to eat mac and cheese. If anything, she ate expensive truffles and caviar. Maybe lobster. This was Maine, after all. 

They probably eat lobster all the time, Emma surmised. Definite ‘no’ on the lobster, then. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t like lobster— hell, she loved it— but she had no idea how to prepare one. People threw them in boiling water. She was sure there was more to it, but that was the extent of her lobster-knowledge.

She spotted a box of macaroni on the shelf and went to retrieve it, but much to her dismay, it was too high up. She couldn’t reach it. 

“Shit.”

She lifted her skateboard, thinking she might be able to nudge it off the shelf, but before she had the chance to try, a hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed the box, startling her. She looked up to find none other than Regina standing there with the box of macaroni in her grasp. 

The brunette offered a warm smile. “Hello, Miss Swan.”

“Hey,” Emma said rather sheepishly.

“Will you still be joining us tonight?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I was just looking for something to bring.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Regina, “Believe me, there will be plenty of food.”

“I feel like I should, though,” Emma told her, “I haven’t exactly been pleasant. I thought I’d try and make it up to you.”

The Mayor’s eyes, dark as they were, seemed to light up after hearing this. Her smile widened, and to Emma, it made her all the more beautiful. 

“I’ll tell you what,” said Regina, “How about you come over in, oh, an hour or so? Maybe you could help me with my lasagna.”

Emma smiled. “You mean your famous lasagna?”

Regina let out a soft laugh, and in that moment, Emma realized that if given the chance, she would do anything just to hear it again.

“Famous lasagna, you say? Let me guess, you’ve been talking to Graham. I should have known. Very few people order the apple pancakes. Granny only has so much pancake mix. They know better than to rob the Sheriff of his favorite breakfast.”

“He seemed pretty adamant that I try them.”

“That’s probably because you’re new,” said Regina, “Graham’s easily excitable, especially when it comes to food.”

“Did someone say ‘food?’”

The two women turned to find the man in question approaching them. He took a quick puff from his replenished inhaler, sighing happily.

“Hello, Emma, Madame Mayor,” he greeted.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

“Hey,” said Emma, “What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you needed help finding anything,” said Graham. Grinning, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small comic book. Emma blinked at him in surprise.

“Didn’t take you for a comic-buff.”

“Actually, this is for Henry. Picked it up while I was waiting on my refill. I know how much the lad loves superheroes. Figured I’d stop by and give it to him. Gotta have something to keep him occupied, you know?”

“That’s very kind of you, Graham,” said Regina, “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

The brunette smiled. “You know you’ll always be welcome, Sheriff. You, too, Miss Swan.”

\---

When Emma arrived at the Mayor’s mansion that afternoon, she was surprised to find a makeshift ramp leading up to the door. She rolled up the wooden ramp and rang the doorbell. It opened just moments later, and she found herself face to face with Henry. 

“Hey, kid.”

She smiled at him, but he just stared back at her as if conflicted, not saying a word. She blinked, puzzled, but before she could say anything, she heard Regina’s voice somewhere in the background.

“Don’t just stand there, Henry, invite her in.”

The boy stepped away silently, ducking his head as if in shame. Emma’s brows furrowed as she made her way inside, but she decided not to say anything. Whatever was up with him, she didn’t want to make it worse. 

Once Henry shut the door behind her, Emma looked up to find Regina stepping out of the kitchen in an apron. She was smiling that perfect smile of hers, sending pleasant shivers down Emma’s spine. 

“Hello, Miss Swan.”

“Hi,” said the blonde, “You know, you didn’t have to go through the trouble of making a ramp.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Regina told her, “Henry and I wanted to make it easier for you to get around.”

Emma wanted to argue, to say that she had gotten around the house just fine, though in reality, she’d only been in the foyer and in Regina’s personal office. Instead, she just smiled.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’re more than welcome,” said the Mayor, “Now, why don’t you come with me into the kitchen? I’ll show you the secret to my ‘famous’ lasagna.”

Emma started to follow Regina towards the kitchen, but soon paused, catching the brunette’s attention. Regina arched a curious eyebrow at her.

“Something wrong?”

“I just— I don’t want to mess up your hardwood with my board,” Emma said timidly. 

A soft smile graced the Mayor’s plush lips. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.

This was what finally got Henry to speak out. “What? You’re just gonna let her ride a skateboard through the house? How come I can’t do that?!”

Regina’s smile quickly fell. In its place came a stern scowl. She folded her arms over her chest, again raising that perfect eyebrow of hers, this time in clear disapproval.

“Henry Daniel Mills,” she scolded, “You apologize right now, young man.”

Henry frowned. “Why should I?” 

“Miss Swan needs her skateboard to help her move around more easily,” Regina explained.

“But she’s still riding it through the house!”

The brunette sighed heavily. “No, Henry, this is different.”

“That’s not fair!”

“You’re right,” said Regina, “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to Miss Swan that she needs to use a skateboard in the first place. I want you to think about that while you’re in your room.”

“Why do I have to go to my room?!”

“Don’t snap at me, young man,” Regina warned, “Do you really need me to explain to you why you’re grounded?”

“You’re just mad because I found my real mom!”

Regina gasped. “Henry Daniel Mills!”

Henry was already running up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and once he reached it, he slammed the door. Regina let out a sigh of frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose. How many times was she going to have to tell him not to run in the house, or slam doors? She turned to find Emma with her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes downcast.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma met the brunette’s concerned gaze with a look of remorse. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “Maybe this is a bad time.”

Regina shook her head. “Nonsense. Henry’s just being hardheaded. I’m sure he’ll calm down soon enough. What do you say we get to work on that lasagna?”

Emma offered a tight smile. “Sure thing, Madame Mayor.”

“‘Regina’ will do just fine.”

“So will ‘Emma.’”

\---

When Emma rolled into the kitchen behind Regina, she was pleasantly surprised to find a small stepladder pushed against the counter next to the stove, where the ingredients for the lasagna were laid out neatly. She got off of her skateboard and set it by the wall, safely out of the way. 

Regina opened a drawer to the right of the stove and retrieved a glass pan, setting it carefully on the counter next to the ingredients. She looked to see Emma shuffling along the smooth tile and was delighted by the smile that graced the blonde’s face upon spotting the stepladder.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to see what all I was doing, so I got the stepladder out of the basement.”

“Thanks,” said Emma, “I really appreciate it.”

Regina readily returned the blonde’s golden smile. “You’re more than welcome, Emma.”

‘I swear, if she says my name like that again, I might just kiss this woman,’ thought Emma. 

She was taken aback by her inward confession, but thankful she hadn’t said it aloud. She wasn’t sure how Regina would have reacted to that, though she doubted it would sit very well with the esteemed Mayor of Storybrooke.

Emma carefully climbed up the stepladder as Regina held it steady for support. She watched as Regina pulled forth a mixer, a carton of eggs, a measuring cup, a wooden rolling pin, and an unopened bag of flour. Although not the best when it came to deciphering context clues, Emma was able to surmise the purpose of all these items. At first glance, they didn’t look like things required to make lasagna.

“You make the pasta by hand?” she asked, visibly taken aback.

Regina’s smile widened. “It wouldn’t quite be ‘famous’ if I didn’t.”

“I’m impressed. I’ve always seen people buy it premade.”

“Yes, well, I find that it’s far more special when you make it yourself,” said Regina, “I like to think of it as a kind of magic.”

“I’m sure my taste buds will agree.”

The Mayor chuckled. “Well, I certainly hope so. Let’s get started, shall we?”

\---

Two hours was all it took. 

Five minutes was all it took for Emma to flatten the dough with the rolling pin, calling for the Autobots to roll out, much to Regina’s amusement. Three seconds was all it took for Emma to get flour all over her face and hands after letting out an uncontrollable sneeze, and when Regina started snickering, it only took one second for Emma to chuck a handful of flour at the impeccable Mayor. 

For fifteen seconds, the brunette had stood there, gaping at her in shock, and Emma started to feel guilty. It took her five seconds to try apologizing, and five more for Regina to hurl flour at her in retaliation. She wasn’t sure how long it took for them to stop laughing, but it felt like an eternity.

In the aftermath of their jovial food-fight, the two women just stood there grinning at one another in amusement, for they were completely covered in flour. They locked eyes, and once they did, they found themselves unable to look away. 

“You look like a ghost,” Emma teased.

Regina smirked. “As do you.”

In that moment, Emma found herself wondering how long it had taken her to fall in love with this woman. It wasn’t this thought that shocked her. What shocked her was the fact that it didn’t. Her lie-detector hadn’t pinged. Her heart, on the other hand, was running wild like a stallion. She couldn’t even begin to describe just how at peace she felt. Of course, it wasn’t just peace. It was love. There wasn’t much in life that she was completely sure about, but she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her heart belonged to Regina Mills. 

And as she would later discover, her taste buds belonged to Regina Mills’ famous lasagna.


	5. Chapter 5

Following their flour-fiasco, Emma insisted on helping Regina clean up the kitchen, but Regina simply wouldn’t allow it. Not knowing what else to do, Emma decided she should at least clean herself up. The only problem with that was that she would have to go through the living room in order to get to the bathroom, and she didn’t want to ruin this amazing house by getting flour everywhere. 

It was in that moment that the doorbell rang, and to Emma’s surprise, Regina walked barefoot through the living room and into the foyer, tracking flour across the hardwood. Emma couldn’t see what was going on, but she heard Regina open the door and invite Graham inside. 

There was silence on Graham’s end, and after a moment, Regina reappeared with the Sheriff in tow. She was visibly worried. Graham looked almost as white as she did. His eyes were wide, and only grew wider when they settled on Emma. His hand was clutching his chest, and he was gasping for breath. 

Emma’s brows furrowed in concern. “What’s the matter with him?”

“I think he thought I was a ghost,” Regina explained, biting her lip guiltily, “I’m afraid I may have triggered an asthma attack.”

No longer concerned about the flour, Emma hurried towards the Sheriff as quickly as she could. 

“You alright, Graham?” she asked, “Where’s your inhaler?”

The Sheriff held open his jacket, where he always kept his inhaler, but shockingly, it was not there. His eyes became glossy and he fell to his knees, gasping desperately for air. Regina and Emma were panicking.

Emma ran her hands through her chalk-white hair. “Oh my God, oh my God, what do we do? I’ve never had to deal with an asthma attack! Regina, please tell me you know what to do!”

Regina knelt down next to Graham clutching his hand tightly. “I do,” she said, “but I don’t have what we need. Graham, would you happen to have an epi-pen on you?”

The Sheriff struggled to lift his head, mouthing what looked like ‘car.’ Regina seemed to understand this and jumped up immediately, rushing towards the door in a panic. 

“Emma, you stay here with Graham! Try to keep him awake! You can’t let him pass out! I’ll be back in just a second!”

Regina darted across the lawn and out onto the sidewalk, where she found the newly-repaired police cruiser parked just behind Emma’s Volkswagen. She ignored the gasps and startled glances from those passing by, caring only about finding the epi-pen. She flung the door open and looked around frantically, but found nothing. Not knowing where else to look, she checked the glove compartment. Lo and behold, there lied the epi-pen. She quickly grabbed it, but before she turned to head back inside, she spotted Graham’s inhaler on the floor next to the brake. 

She snatched it up and slammed the car door, not caring if that made her seem like a hypocrite, and rushed back into the house to help the Sheriff. Having done this numerous times in the past, Regina was well-versed in the ways of the epi-pen, and the second she was back at Graham’s side, she drove the needle into his thigh. Almost immediately, the man shot up and took a long, deep breath, and the two women let out sighs of relief.

“Damn,” said Emma, “That’s some ‘Pulp Fiction’ shit. For a second, I thought you were gonna stab him in the heart.”

Graham chuckled at this. “I had an asthma attack, not a heroin overdose.”

“Well, I certainly hope not,” Emma teased, “By the way, I am so glad I’m not the only one here who’s seen Pulp Fiction.”

“How many times have you seen it?” 

“Ten.”

The Sheriff smirked. “Twenty.”

“You just got a thousand times cooler in my book.”

“I’ll never understand why people like that movie so much,” said Regina, “I saw it once, and I was completely lost. I don’t how many times Graham has explained it to me, but I still don’t get what it’s about.”

“It’s about a couple of gangsters going to get a demonic briefcase,” said Emma.

“Who said it was demonic?”

“The code is 666!”

Regina just shook her head as she helped Graham to his feet and handed him his inhaler. He blinked at her in surprise as he took it. 

“Where’d you find it?”

“Beside the brake,” Regina told him, “I’m just glad you didn’t lose it somewhere, or else you’d really be in trouble.”

“Aye, that’ll be the death of me.” He glanced curiously between the two women. “So, uh, why are you two covered in flour, anyway? It’s not quite Halloween yet.”

The three of them shared a quiet chuckle.

“We were making lasagna,” Emma explained.

Graham was clearly taken aback by this. “And this was the result? Tell me it didn’t explode!”

“No, the lasagna is perfectly fine,” Regina assured him, “Emma and I merely got carried away, throwing flour at each other.”

The Sheriff’s eyes were even wider now than during his episode. He gaped at Regina in utter disbelief. 

“You’re telling me that you, Regina Mills, had a food fight? In your kitchen?”

The brunette smirked, folding her arms over her chest and holding her head up with what looked like pride, as if she had just earned some prestigious award.

“I did, in fact,” she declared, “and my God, it was the most fun I’ve had in years.” 

She beamed at Emma, extending her hand for a low-five, which the blonde was more than happy to provide. Two things happened in that moment. One: the smack of their hands resulted in a sparse plume of flour. Two: something sparked between them as they touched. They couldn’t see it, but it was clear to the both of them by the look on each other’s faces that they most certainly felt it. 

\---

Later that evening, long after Regina and Emma had rid themselves of all the flour, they joined Graham and Henry at the dinner table. Emma was donned in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black running shorts that Regina had lent to her while her own clothes were in the washing machine. 

Graham reached into his jacket for his inhaler, taking a puff from it as if taking a drag from a cigarette. He seemed much livelier after his brush with death. He put the inhaler back in his pocket and noticed the somber state Henry was in. 

“Something the matter, lad?” he asked, “What’s got you all down in the dumps, huh?”

“Nothing,” Henry mumbled.

“Well, that must be an awful lot of ‘nothing’ to have you looking so bummed,” said Graham. He smiled as he reached for his back pocket, retrieving the comic he’d picked up that afternoon. This certainly got Henry to perk up. 

“Is that for me?”

“You betcha. Thought you might’ve run out of reading material.”

A small smile graced the boy’s lips. “Thanks, Graham. You’re the coolest.”

The Sheriff ruffled his hair playfully. “You’re welcome, lad. You know, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Henry started to open the comic-book, but Regina stopped him.

“Not now, Henry,” she said softly, “You can look at it after dinner.”

The boy’s smile fell and he reluctantly set the book aside, propping his head up with his fist and staring down at his empty plate, dejected. 

“No elbows on the table, dear,” Regina chided, “You know the rules.”

Henry folded his arms in defiance, but said nothing. He kept his head down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the Evil Queen’s disapproving gaze. 

“Why don’t we get started?” the brunette asked with a tight smile, desperate to break the tension in the room.

Regina carefully scooped some lasagna onto her plate, offering the spatula to Emma, who was seated to her right. Emma’s stomach roared as she piled the steaming mass of meat, cheese, and pasta onto her plate. She then passed the spatula across the table to Henry, who only dipped out a small portion. The boy handed the spatula to Graham without a word, and the Sheriff grinned almost madly as he filled his plate with lasagna.

Emma and Graham all but shoveled the food into their mouths, unable to get their fill of the delicious pasta. Regina watched them amusedly as she took much smaller bites. Her look of mirth changed to one of concern when she noticed that Henry had yet to take a bite. He was merely poking at the lasagna with his fork, frowning as if lost in thought.

“Are you feeling alright, Henry?” asked Regina, “You haven’t even touched your dinner.”

The boy slowly lifted his head and met her gaze with a look of sheer frustration. To those around him, he was being rude to his mother. In his mind, he was boldly standing up to the tyranny of the Evil Queen.

“Not hungry,” he said bitterly.

Regina raised an eyebrow at this. “Since when are you not hungry for lasagna?” she quizzed, “Have you been sneaking food up to your room again?”

Henry’s frown deepened. “No,” he said, “I just don’t feel like eating.”

“Why not, lad?” Graham asked with a mouthful of lasagna. Regina gave him a pointed look, and he promptly swallowed. “I’ve gotta say, this lasagna is even better than the last time!”

Regina smirked. “That’s what you always say, Graham.”

“Because it’s the truth!” the Sheriff insisted. 

“I’m gonna have to side with Graham on this,” said Emma, “I may not have had your lasagna before, but I kid you not, Regina, this has got to be the best thing I have ever eaten. Bravo!”

Regina stared at the blonde in wonder, her dark eyes alight with a pleasant warmth that spread through her like wildfire. It felt strongest in her heart. 

"Thank you, Emma," she said softly.

She couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips as she studied the woman’s face. It was a beautiful face indeed, she had long-since realized. The golden tresses that framed it put the sun to shame with ease. She was pulled from her thoughts by the sweet sound of Emma’s voice.

“You should really eat, kid,” Emma advised Henry, “You don’t know how lucky you are to have a mom who can cook like this.”

Once more, Henry crossed his arms in defiance. “I bet it’s poisoned,” he muttered.

The joy on Regina’s face swiftly turned to disbelief, which in turn became anger. Her hand trembled uncontrollably as she set her fork down. 

“Excuse me, young man?” she asked incredulously, “Would you like to repeat that?”

The boy’s hazel eyes narrowed as they locked with hers. “I said I bet the food is poisoned,” he spat.

“Henry! Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re the Evil Queen!” he shouted, jumping up from his seat and slamming his hands on the table. “Poisoning people is what you do!”

Regina’s eye twitched upon hearing this, and she sat back with her fingers folded in her lap. Her voice was soft as she spoke, but it was evident to everyone in the room that she was far from pleased. 

“Henry Daniel Mills,” she said quietly, “Go to your room. Now.”

“No!”

“Henry,” she warned, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“What are you gonna do? Curse me? Just like everyone else in this stupid town?!”

That was the final straw.

“Henry, that is enough!” Regina snapped, “You will go to your room, right now, and you may not come out until I come to check on you. Do I make myself clear?”

The boy swiped his comic-book off the table and stormed off towards the staircase. Regina got up and quickly followed after him, exasperated. 

“I said, do I make myself clear?” she repeated.

“I heard you the first time!”

“Then answer me—” 

“I don’t have to listen to anything you say!” Henry shouted, “You’re not my mom!” He threw up an arm, pointing at Emma. “She is!”

The three adults were left wide-eyed and speechless as Henry rushed upstairs to his room, once more slamming the door behind him. Emma and Graham looked at one another with uncertainty before turning back towards Regina, who was just standing at the foot of the stairs with her fists clenched and her head down. 

“…Regina?” Emma called hesitantly.

“Excuse me,” the brunette said quietly, “I just— I need a minute.”

She disappeared into her office and locked the door without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

“I need a minute,” Regina had said.

A minute turned into ten, ten became twenty, and before long, twenty became forty-five. At this point, Emma couldn’t take it anymore. Graham went up to check on Henry, leaving Emma alone outside Regina’s office. 

She’d been waiting silently at door for about five minutes now, still debating whether or not she should knock. A part of her insisted that Regina just needed some space, while the other was demanding she do something— anything— and so, at long last, she did. She slowly brought her hand up to the door and knocked quietly.

“Regina? Are you alright in there?” 

There was faint shuffling behind the door, and after a few moments, Regina opened it, though just a crack. She peered out at Emma with just one eye, and the blonde knew that she’d been crying, judging by the wet streak of mascara running down her cheek.

“Emma,” the brunette said softly, “Come in.”

She opened the door for Emma, and once the blonde was inside, she locked it back. She slowly turned to find Emma pulling herself almost effortlessly onto the couch. Rather than sitting across from the woman, Regina opted to join her on the same couch. She did so, staring blankly at the drink in her hand. Her breath smelled of brandy. The alcohol had warmed the blood in her veins and helped to take the edge off, at least for a little while. Now it seemed like it was just making things worse. 

She turned to Emma with uncertainty. The tears in her eyes glistened in the light of the crackling fire nearby, as did the ice in her glass. Soft music emanated from her antique gramophone. Like her, it had no words. 

It was Emma who spoke first, with that angelic voice of hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come over.”

Regina shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured, “What Henry said wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not,” said Emma, “but it might not have happened if I wasn’t here.”

“The key word is ‘might.’”

Regina took another sip from her drink. It was nearly empty. She stared into Emma’s eyes as if searching for answers. It wasn’t just the answers she needed. First, she had to find the right questions. She let out a shaky breath. 

“He thinks I’m evil,” she whispered, meeting sea-green eyes apprehensively, “all because of some book.”

Emma groaned. “Oh my God.”

“Tell me he didn’t say anything to you about it.”

“He did,” said Emma, “It was practically all he talked about on the drive here. He kept saying all these insane things about how you were some evil witch who put a spell over the whole town or something. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out, but it looks like you already know.”

Regina sighed heavily. “Yes, I’m well aware,” she said, “He’s been like this ever since he found out he was adopted.”

“I guess he didn’t take it well?”

The brunette shook her head, frowning at her empty glass as a look of bitterness and anger settled over her face. 

“I had planned on telling him, but I was going to wait until he was a little older,” she confessed. Her frown deepened. “I don’t know when it happened, exactly, but one day he came home and refused to speak to me. I assumed he just wasn’t feeling well, so I left him alone. It happened again the next day, and the next day, and after a week of this, I’d had enough. I begged him to tell me what was wrong. I suspected he’d been having trouble with a bully, but he explained to me that Leroy— the town drunk— had called him a ‘bastard’ and told him I wasn’t really his mother. Told him that no one else wanted him.”

Now it was Emma who frowned. “Regina, that’s awful.”

Regina nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, it is.” 

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat, fumbling awkwardly with her hands. Biting her lip, she looked at the brunette with remorse.

“I’m going to be leaving, first thing in the morning,” she said quietly, “I think it’s best that I did. I need to get back to Boston, and I, uh, I don’t wanna fuck things up between you and your kid.”

A wave of pain washed over the brunette. Emma could see it in her eyes. They were dilated, like those of a cat, but Emma couldn’t help thinking the alcohol wasn’t the only thing to blame. 

“I’m sorry,” the blonde said again, “I really enjoyed dinner. It was the best meal I’ve ever had. I’m not just saying that, either. It was great.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You were great.”

This confession seemed to stun Regina back into sobriety. A small but genuine smile graced her plush lips, and suddenly, Emma found herself wanting to kiss them, to taste them. She glanced between Regina’s lips and eyes, only to realize that Regina was doing the very same. Their eyes locked, their breathing grew heavier, and their hearts began beating faster, faster, and faster still. 

Lost in each other’s eyes, they unknowingly moved closer on the couch, until they were just inches apart. They could feel one another’s uneven breaths upon their lips. The scent of brandy wafted between them. Regina slowly lifted her hand towards Emma’s face, only to pause, silently seeking permission, which Emma didn’t hesitate to grant her. She cupped Emma’s cheek ever so gently, and after a brief moment, she pressed her forehead to the blonde’s.

Both their eyes slipped shut as their lips brushed lightly against one another. Regina moved to deepen the kiss, but Emma placed a hand on her chest, just over her heart, stopping her. The brunette stared at her blonde companion in utter confusion.

“Emma?” she rasped, clearly hurt by the rejection.

Emma suddenly found herself unable to look the woman in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t do this. Not now. Not when you’ve been drinking.”

“But I wanted this.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” whispered Emma, “but I can’t really know that for sure unless you’re completely sober. I am sorry, Regina, but I’m not going to take advantage of you like that, even if it is just a kiss.”

Regina’s hand fell from Emma’s cheek, instead opting to clutch her soft hand. She stroked the blonde’s pale knuckles with her thumb, once again drawing those lovely green eyes back towards her own.

“Thank you, Emma,” she murmured, leaning forward. 

For a moment, Emma thought Regina was going to try and kiss her again, but the brunette’s lips met her cheek instead, planting a feather-light kiss upon her blushing face. 

“Thank you for being my Knight in shining armor.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hit a little too close to home with me while I was writing Regina's inner monologue.

Morning came, and Emma awoke to find herself curled up on the couch with a soft pillow tucked under her head and a warm blanket draped over her. She turned to see her clothes, now completely clean and free of flour, folded neatly on the coffee table. She couldn’t help but smile as she sat up, throwing back the blanket and changing out of Regina’s clothes and back into her own. As a simple courtesy, she folded the clothes she’d been lent and placed them on the table. 

When she made her way out of the office, her nose was instantly overwhelmed by the heavenly aroma of sizzling bacon. She shuffled across the floor as quickly as she could, desperate to reach the kitchen. Her mouth was watering like a broken faucet. When she finally made it into the kitchen, she found Regina standing at the stove in a fuzzy white robe with her hair tied back loosely.

“Morning,” she said, scooting over to the brunette.

“Good morning,” Regina greeted. “I trust you slept well?”

Her voice was soft. Pleasant. She seemed much happier now than she had last night. It was almost as if Henry’s outburst had never even occurred. 

Emma smiled. “Like a baby.”

When Regina turned her head, Emma realized the woman was completely void of makeup. If Emma hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought this was someone else entirely. But she could still see that this was, in fact, Regina Mills, in all her natural glory. And God, was she beautiful. 

What really caught Emma’s eye was the small scar on the woman’s lip. She hadn’t noticed it before. Had it been there all along? It seemed Regina was quite skilled when it came to applying makeup. Emma had never really been one to wear makeup. Sure, she used the occasional bit of eyeliner or blush, maybe a little lipstick here and there, but never anything more, nor too much of it.

“I woke up and smelled bacon, so I just had to come and check it out.”

Regina chuckled. “Lucky you. You get first dibs.” 

A grin spread across Emma’s face. “Sweet.”

“You know, I once read that pork increases serotonin production in the brain.”

The blonde’s eyes lit up. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Regina smirked. “That bacon equals happiness? Of course.”

“That’s so cool! I’ll have to look into that.”

The brunette piled several strips of the sizzling bacon onto a plate and handed it to Emma, who was more than happy to accept it. 

“Careful,” she warned, “They’re still hot.”

‘Not as hot as you,’ thought Emma. 

Ignoring the sting of heat on her fingertips, Emma bit into a crispy piece of bacon and let out an involuntary moan as it met her tongue. Her eyes slipped shut as she chewed, savoring the heavenly flavor that overwhelmed her taste buds. She opened them once she swallowed, only to find Regina watching at her with dilated eyes, much like she had last night. 

Regina blinked, suddenly aware of her actions, and turned back to the stove with a blush creeping onto her olive cheeks. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“I take it the bacon’s good?”

“No,” Emma said, grinning, “It’s awesome.”

Regina laughed softly. “I’m glad you think so,” she said, “You know, I think you’re ‘awesome’ as well.”

Emma’s eyes lit up in astonishment. “Thanks,” she said quietly, “Nobody’s ever told me that before.”

This left Regina visibly taken aback. “No one? Not ever?”

“Nope,” said Emma, “but I’m glad you were the first.”

\---

Emma’s confession left both women stunned, though neither of them brought it up while they enjoyed their breakfast together in comfortable silence. On the table was bacon, scrambled eggs sprinkled in melted cheddar, and homemade French toast with a small bowl of warm syrup. They each had their fill, leaving enough for Henry, who had yet to come downstairs. His seat remained empty long after Regina had put away the leftovers. 

Although she was doing her best not to show it, Regina was troubled by the boy’s absence. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall as the memory of last night played over and over in her mind. It seemed that her medicine hadn’t quite kicked in yet. She assured herself it would take effect within the hour. 

She looked to the staircase longingly, hoping to see Henry come rushing down any second now. He never did. She let out a quiet but heavy sigh, clasping her mug with both hands and staring blankly at her muddled reflection in the dark ripples of her coffee. 

Sometimes, even with the drugs working to correct the imbalance in her brain, she would slip into inexplicable bouts of anguish and spend countless hours sobbing openly and endlessly in either her office or her room (both off-limits to Henry). 

“Regina? You okay?”

It was Emma’s soft voice that pulled Regina from her worrying thoughts. She slowly raised her head to meet the blonde’s concerned gaze, offering a tight smile. 

“Of course,” she lied, “I’m just worried about Henry, is all.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” said Emma, “He’s gonna have to, sooner or later. He can’t keep thinking that you’re some sort of witch. It isn’t helping anyone, least of all you or him.”

“I’ve had him in therapy for a couple of months now,” Regina told her, “I thought maybe that would get him to see reason, but I can’t help thinking that— whatever this is— has only gotten worse. I don’t even know where he got the book. I’ve tried looking for it, but he keeps it hidden. Where, I don’t have a clue. It’s like he doesn’t want me to see it, like it’s some big secret that I can’t ever know about.”

Despite her best efforts, her eyes began to well up with tears. Her lukewarm coffee was not to blame for the bitter taste in her mouth.

“You know, whenever I told him I loved him, he never failed to say it back,” she said quietly, “but now that he has that damn book, he won’t even acknowledge me when I say it. It’s like he doesn’t believe me, like I can’t be trusted.”

She started to sob.

“He hates me, Emma. I can see it in his eyes. My own son hates me with every fiber of his being. He tells me I’m not his mother, even after all I’ve done for him. I adopted him, raised him as my own, loved him more than life itself. I still do. There will never be a day that I stop loving him, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

Emma placed a comforting hand on Regina’s arm. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to make this worse. I had no idea how bad it really was. I know I haven’t known you that long, Regina, but from what I’ve seen, you’re a wonderful mother. I’m glad you were the one to adopt him. There’s no one else I would trust with him.”

Regina’s eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she was completely at a loss for words. She set down her mug and gently clasped Emma’s hand in her own. A genuine smile spread across her tear-streaked face, and in that moment, Emma swore she saw the sun shining through the veil of rain.

\---

Emma struggled with the knowledge that things were going to be different now. Much different, like the folded napkin from the diner, tucked carefully in her glove compartment. Much different, like the skateboard she now had propped up in the passenger seat as though it was a silent companion. Much different, like the ornate, bronze rosary she had discovered dangling from the wing mirror as she went to unlock the door. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she retrieved it, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. It was definitely one of them. She pressed it over her heart as a show of respect, well-aware of whose hands had hung it there. A sad smile graced her lips as she fixed the bejeweled rosary to her rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, Graham,” she whispered.

She looked to her skateboard in the seat next to her and a pleasant warmth swelled in her chest. Taped to the bottom of the board was the recipe for Regina’s lasagna, along with an impeccably-written message: 

‘Emma, 

I can’t possibly thank you enough for bringing Henry back, and for the kindness you have shown me. I will be forever grateful to you. Know that should you ever decide to come back— and I certainly hope you will— you will always be welcome to stay with Henry and I. I’m afraid I haven’t got a cellphone, so there will be times when you may not be able to reach me, but I’ve written my home phone at the bottom. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like us to keep in touch.

I wish you all the best,  
Regina.

P.S: I left you a little something in your sweatshirt pocket.’

Puzzled, Emma reached into said pocket and quickly came across what felt like a piece of paper. Her eyes widened in disbelief. 

“Oh, tell me she didn’t—” 

She slowly pulled her hand out, and in it was a check for a thousand dollars. She couldn’t help the smirk creeping its way onto her face. 

“Yeah. She totally did.”

\---

The drive down Main Street had left her feeling sicker and sicker the closer she got to the edge of town. She was overwhelmed with nausea, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she was about to expel her breakfast all over the wheel. However, to her utter confusion, her nausea completely vanished the second she made it past the old rusted sign which read ‘Leaving Storybrooke.’

In place of that sickly sensation came the intense feeling of loneliness she had all but forgotten about. She had only been in Storybrooke for a little over a day, and yet, she felt as though she’d been there for so much longer. It was as if the town itself had somehow soothed the lonesome ache she’d always endured. Deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t the town that had healed her. It was the people in it who had offered her solace when she needed it most.

And now, the emptiness in her stomach had spread to her heart. Her smile faded, and in its place came a mask of forced indifference. Her hands trembled almost violently as they gripped the steering wheel as tightly as humanly-possible. She was clenching her teeth so hard that they could have shattered. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall. 

She had allowed herself to cry in Storybrooke, because there, she felt like an entirely different person. She felt like herself. Her true self. She felt like Emma. 

Out here, however, she felt like an imposter. A caricature. A shield. Out here, she wasn’t Emma. Not really. She was the legless freak of nature who worked down at the thrift store on the corner. She was the enigma everyone loved to gawk and stare at. 

In Storybrooke, she had felt like somebody who actually mattered. Out here, however, she was nobody. She was nothing. Nichts. Niente. Nada. 

The radio drowned out the sound of her sobbing. Her eyes fell upon the rosary Graham had so generously given to her. They slowly trailed up the rubies and sapphires that made up the beads, and for a moment, she wondered whether or not they were real. She realized just as quickly that it didn’t matter. Whether or not the jewels were authentic was irrelevant. They were still real to her. 

She glanced up at herself in the mirror, taking note of the redness in her glossy eyes. It was then that something else caught her attention. Something that very nearly caused her to lose control of the wheel. Her heart just about stopped. 

There, in the back seat, was Henry’s book.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite arriving back in Boston in the middle of the afternoon, Emma crawled into bed and took a much-needed nap. Unfortunately, it only lasted about an hour or so before her troubled mind pulled her back into consciousness. Groaning, she rolled onto her side, only to find herself staring down at the leather-bound book she’d left lying on the floor. With a sigh, she hoisted it up onto the bed and sat up so that she could get a better look at it. 

‘Once Upon a Time,’ it said. 

She had to know. It was about time she learned why Henry had been so adamant that the stories within it were true, and that she ‘wasn’t ready’ for them. Rationally, she knew it was all nonsense, and that there was no such thing as witches or curses or anything of the sort. However, Henry’s behavior had been all-too-real, and had caused Regina a world of pain that Emma felt needed to be healed. 

Flipping through the book, Emma found page after page of fairytales with elaborate illustrations of characters who— if she was being completely honest— did look kind of like the people she’d seen back in Storybrooke. It was entirely coincidental, of course, but strange, nonetheless.

About halfway through the book, Emma came across the story of Little Red Riding Hood, or rather, a tragic retelling in which Red was actually a werewolf, who accidentally wound up devouring her boyfriend, Peter. Emma was admittedly impressed by the nod to Peter and the Wolf. Whoever had written this was certainly creative. No wonder Henry liked it so much. That still didn’t excuse his terrible behavior. 

Emma couldn’t deny that Red did resemble Ruby, and that Granny looked like, well, Granny. There had to be some logical explanation for all this. Perhaps there was just some imaginative soul in Storybrooke who decided to base all the characters off of the townspeople. To Emma, that seemed like the most plausible reason. A little weird, yes, but by no means impossible.

The more Emma looked into it, the more perplexed she became. Immediately following the tale of Little Red was that of Snow White, or a bizarre interpretation in which Snow was some sort of Outlaw Princess, wanted for ‘murder, treason, and treachery.’ 

There was something about the character Emma couldn’t help but admire. She scanned the pages hastily, wondering what would happen next. She was stunned by how much she was getting into this. She had to say, it was incredibly well-written. She was confident in her belief that this would be a huge hit if it was ever made into a movie.

What shocked Emma was the page depicting the Huntsman, a sort of wild man raised by wolves and sent by the Evil Queen to cut out Snow White’s heart with his dagger. He looked exactly like Graham, whose rosary she currently had hanging around her neck. The resemblance was undeniable. He ended up sparing Snow White, instead carving out the heart of a stag and bringing it to the Queen, hoping it would fool her.

It didn’t, of course. 

Emma was left utterly speechless by what she saw when she reached the page depicting the Evil Queen. Everything clicked. The Evil Queen looked like Regina in every possible way, right down to the small scar on her lip. If Emma hadn’t noticed it until Regina had removed her makeup, how could anyone else? Who else would have known about that scar? And why would they have thought to include it in the illustration?

Emma shook her head. She was looking way too deep into this. It was entirely a coincidence. She was sticking to her theory about the characters being based on the townspeople. There was no way any of this had actually happened. It was completely ridiculous and irrational to believe otherwise. 

Just when she thought this couldn’t possibly get any more insane, she came upon a page towards the end of the book which featured Prince Charming bleeding profusely while placing his infant daughter into the enchanted wardrobe. The baby was swaddled in a woolen blanket with purple ribbon woven into it. Emma noticed right away that the blanket looked a lot like the one she’d been swaddled in when she was found. 

Her blood ran cold when she realized her name was sewn into the fabric. She frantically scrambled out of her bed and over to the cardboard box containing her most prized possessions. There, at the top of the little pile, was her baby blanket. It was a bit frayed, being nearly thirty years-old now, but it was identical to the one featured in the book.

“No fucking way,” she whispered.

She suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Okay, this wasn’t possible. She had to have been dreaming. There was absolutely no way anyone could have known about her blanket. She was very protective of it. No one else could have known about it— certainly not anyone in Storybrooke, Maine, of all places.

Her heart was pounding. Her head was spinning. Her chest was heaving, yet she couldn’t seem to draw breath. She hugged the soft blanket against her chest, staring at the book on her bed in disbelief. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be! It made no sense! 

Even if that was her— which it most certainly wasn’t— how could Henry have known what her blanket looked like? How could he have known it was really her? It wasn’t, of course, but out of all the Emmas in the world, how could he have tracked her down this easily? The kid was just ten! Plus, the adoption records were supposed to be closed! She had specifically requested it! 

She hadn’t wanted him to find her. When she’d given birth to him, she hadn’t even held him, much less looked at him. She knew that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to let him go. She gave him up because she didn’t want him to suffer by having a freak for a mother. More importantly, she didn’t want him to end up like her. She was a loser. A nobody. With or without legs, she was no one. Truthfully, though, she would rather he end up like her than like his father.

Henry’s father, that lying, cheating bastard who’d had the audacity to tell her he loved her, and that he would never leave her, only to stab her in the back and do precisely that once she told him she was pregnant. Emma was never a violent person, but she knew that if she ever saw that son-of-a-bitch again, she’d probably kill him. She doubted she would get very far without any legs, but by God, she would try. 

She reluctantly pulled herself back up onto the bed. She’d bought a low bedframe to help her get into bed more easily. She had a tendency to make regrettable purchases, but this had been a sound investment, and still was. She found herself wondering what it would be like to share her bed with someone. Not just someone. Regina. 

The thought brought a smile to her face. Yes, she would very much have liked to share her bed with the beautiful brunette. She recalled the events from last night, and how they had almost kissed. Regina said she’d wanted it. The truth was, Emma had wanted it, too, but she couldn’t. Not when the woman had been drinking. If they had both had a drink or two, that would have been a different story, but the last thing she wanted was to take advantage of another person. 

She’d been taken advantage of more than she cared to admit. She wouldn’t dream of doing that to anyone, least of all Regina. Regina was good. Regina was kind. Generous. Caring. Loving. Regina was everything Emma wished she could be. Above all, Regina Mills was perfect. At least in Emma’s eyes. Maybe that would be enough. She liked to think so. 

There was no way Regina was some Evil Queen. There was no way Graham was a heartless Huntsman. Ruby wasn’t a werewolf, nor was her Granny. Emma wasn’t some prophesized ‘Savior,’ her parents were not Snow White and Prince Charming, and there was no way in Hell that Storybrooke had been created by some ‘Dark Curse.’ Sure, it was quiet and extremely isolated, and that was admittedly-unsettling in its own right, but that didn’t mean the place was cursed. 

The Evil Queen in the story may have looked like Regina in every possible way, but it wasn’t really her. There were many words that Emma would use to describe the brunette. ‘Queen’ may very well have been one of them, and for good reason, but ‘evil’ most certainly was not. 

What reason would Regina have to curse an entire town, anyway? She was the Mayor, for God’s sake! She had a wonderful home and a child she loved, even if he didn’t love her back. Of course, that was shitty to have to deal with, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Henry’s. There was no need to go so far as making everyone else suffer. Again, there was no such thing as curses, but Emma was just thinking hypothetically. 

Still, the blonde couldn’t help but remember her bizarre encounter with the mysterious Mr. Gold. When she was looking at the picture of Rumplestiltskin, she swore he looked familiar. It wasn’t until later that she realized he bore a resemblance to Gold, just without all that excessive glitter. She was still adamant that if anyone was to cast a curse, it would be him. Certainly not Regina, that kind, sweet woman who seemed so genuine, so real. So broken. So alone, even with her son and the Sheriff and the rest of the town behind her. 

It suddenly occurred to Emma that they had far more in common than she’d initially realized. She had looked into Regina’s eyes that morning at breakfast, and she had seen suffering. They said the eyes were the mirror to the soul. Emma had never believed in souls, but it was clear to her now— after looking into Regina Mills’ eyes for the first time— that souls were indeed real. 

And Regina’s was in a thousand pieces. Broken. Cracked like a porcelain doll, and just as precious. 

Emma ran her fingers silently over the face of the Evil Queen, gently, as if the woman would actually feel her touch. She still couldn’t believe how perfectly the author— whoever they were— had managed to capture Regina’s likeness. Each and every detail, though seemingly small, impacted not only the illustration, but the book as a whole. What struck Emma the most was the eyes. 

The Queen’s eyes were just as broken as Regina’s. Although ink on canvas, they seemed to stare, not into her soul, but somewhere beyond. Somewhere deeper. Somewhere much more personal. Somewhere. Everywhere. And somehow, nowhere at all. 

“It’s just a drawing,” Emma whispered, “Don’t be stupid. It isn’t really her.”

But by God, it was the next best thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update. Warning: this chapter is VERY dark and contains descriptions of violence and mentions of sexual abuse. However, it is an important part of Regina's back-story. It was difficult for me to write, but I put all my heart, soul, and tears into it.

Regina’s eyes snapped open and she shot up in bed, gasping for breath. She brought a tentative hand to her face, running her fingers silently over her flushed cheek. Her entire body was laced with cold sweat. She could have sworn she’d felt someone stroking her face. It had felt entirely real. Almost frighteningly-so. Yet she wasn’t afraid. It couldn’t have been Him. Not this time. There was no malice in the touch. Only what felt like curiosity. 

She traced the small scar on her lip with a shaky sigh, fighting against the tears beginning to fill her eyes. She wouldn’t allow Him to torment her. Not today. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. Or so she kept telling herself. He may not have been able to lay His hands on her, but He still haunted her dreams. She choked back the bile rising in her throat, struggling for air. She suddenly found that she couldn’t breathe. She could still feel His hands closing around her neck, not tightly enough to kill her, but certainly enough to terrorize her into submission.

She looked to her alarm clock. 3:00 A.M. The Devil’s Hour. How fitting, she thought. She sighed once more, knowing she wouldn’t be going back to sleep. Switching on the lamp, she climbed out of bed, naked as the day she was born, and moved wordlessly towards the adjacent bathroom.

As usual, He had been the monster in her nightmare, taunting her. She could still smell the whiskey on his breath. It was overwhelming. Despair whirled alongside the sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Fear crept up her spine, making the hair on her neck stand up. She turned the knob in the shower, and in a matter of seconds, it went from ‘off’ to ‘scalding.’ 

She stepped inside and pulled the glass door closed, watching it fog up as she began to lather her sweat-laced body with a myriad of soap. She ran her fingers lightly along her neck. The bruises were long gone, but the scars would always be there. The pain was as prominent as ever. She’d never told anyone what really happened. He had made it clear to her that if anyone found out, she would never see her father again. So she had kept quiet.

At least, until He decided He wanted to have His drunken way with her. It didn’t matter how much she said no. It didn’t matter how much she screamed, or how much she begged. It never did. She was nothing, He had told her time and time again, and after a while, she’d started to believe Him. She still did. 

She grit her teeth and her salty tears leaked onto her arm while she scrubbed it raw with the soapy cloth. It didn’t matter how much she scrubbed, nor how hard. She would never truly be rid of His filth. He had ruined her. He had broken her. Destroyed her. She was no longer that naïve, doe-eyed girl who so foolishly believed that everyone had good in them. 

She now saw the world through a broken lens. Broken, but still whole. She couldn’t say the same for herself. There were pieces of her missing that she could never get back. Her innocence? Shattered. Her trust? Lost. Her hope? Gone. Gone, but not forgotten. 

She’d felt a spark of hope flicker in her heart when she’d held Henry in her arms for the first time, and the love she felt for that precious child still burned strong, like the Eternal Flame of Prometheus. And now, just when she felt that fire beginning to dwindle in the absence of Henry’s affection, it was reignited with the powerful passion she held in her heart for that Golden Goddess who had come down from the Heavens in a grand chariot to deliver Henry back into her waiting arms. 

The water scorched her as it trickled down her broken shell of a body. The scars on the insides of her thighs were as healed as they would ever be. Never entirely. Never completely. He had made sure of that. He always made sure to leave a mark where it couldn’t be seen. The anomaly on her lip was the result of one of His (many) drunken outbursts. She had suggested that perhaps He should try not to be so angry. It was a decision she regretted each time she stared at her face in the mirror. 

The one time she hadn’t felt self-conscious about it was when Emma had seen her face entirely void of makeup. The makeup served as a mask. A shield. Behind it, she felt invincible. She could put on her political smile and take on the entire world, if she had to. Just not Him. Even with her mask, she could never face Him. Seeing Him would have caused her mask to shatter, just like her soul. 

It was because of Him that she was like this. He was the reason for her suffering. The reason for her pain. It was because of Him that she had to choke down drugs each morning just to get through the day. No one spoke of Him. Never aloud, of course, but they whispered amongst one another with their eyes. Regina was no mind reader, but she wasn’t stupid, either. She knew He was in their thoughts whenever they looked at her. 

She had run for Mayor, just to challenge Him. Just to feel like she had some sort of power. Some sort of control. Not over Him, but control, nonetheless. She had run for Mayor, and despite what He’d told her, she had won. That was the fourth happiest day of her life. The first, of course, was the day she adopted Henry, and the second was the day she met Emma Swan, who had driven all the way from Boston, just to bring back her beloved son. She would be forever grateful.

The third happiest day of her life, though she would never say it aloud, was the day He died. When she found out He’d been discovered hanging from the rafters in His attic, she wanted to smile, but she hadn’t. She certainly hadn’t cried, either. She had bent down, carefully taken off her shoes, her jewelry, and her makeup, and she danced in time to a melody heard by none but her. 

That brief flicker of joy was snuffed out the moment she closed her eyes. That was when the nightmares began. How foolish she had been to think she could ever be free of Him. He continued to haunt her from beyond the grave. She would never find peace. Not truly. Of course, her love for Henry was a more than welcome distraction from the pain, but the anguish was always there, as it always would be. 

Regina was never sure if she believed in Heaven or not, but she most certainly believed in Hell. She had lived it. Suffered it. Felt it. It had violated her in every sense of the word. The Devil was just as real. Equally as monstrous. He was the Devil. He was Evil Incarnate. She didn’t know much, but that, she knew. That, better than anyone else, she knew all too well. 

It was said that the Devil had many names. Satan. Lucifer. Antichrist. Adversary. Archfiend. Apollyon. Beelzebub. Azazael. Demon. Serpent. Prince of Darkness. Evil One. Mephistopheles. 

Regina knew Him by only one:

Leopold.


	10. Chapter 10

When Regina called him at five in the morning, sobbing openly and pleading with him to come over, Graham didn’t hesitate to speed towards Mifflin Street in the cruiser. He hurried to the door and reached up to ring the bell, but it swung open before he had the chance. There stood the Mayor, a complete and utter wreck. She was wearing a white bathrobe, tied loosely at the waist. Her eyes were bloodshot and actively leaking with misery. Her skin and hair were still sopping wet, and she had just tracked water across the hardwood, something she would have had a conniption over if anyone else had done it.

“Mary, Mother of God,” whispered Graham, “What’s going on, Regina?”

The brunette continued to sob as she pulled the Sheriff into a much-needed embrace. She wept onto his shoulder while he ushered her inside, quietly closing the door behind him. He brought his arms around her so as to comfort her.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said softly.

Regina pulled back reluctantly, sniffling. “I— I can’t stop thinking about,” she paused and let out a shaky breath, “about Him. He still hurts me, in my dreams. He won’t let me go. What do I do, Graham? How can I fight Him when he isn’t really there?”

The Sheriff placed his hands awkwardly on the brunette’s shoulders, meeting her glossy gaze with a look of uncertainty.

“Maybe you could try turning to God?”

Regina sighed. “I’m sorry, Graham, but I’ve tried that more times than I can count. I turned to him for answers, and each time I did, he turned away. He let me suffer. He let me break. Sometimes I can’t help thinking he actually had a hand in it all.”

She brought a hand to her stomach, staring down at it with pain in her eyes. Graham took her other hand in his, squeezing it gently in an attempt to comfort her. He didn’t have to ask what was going through her mind. Her eyes said more than her lips ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Just sit with me. Be my friend,” said Regina, “I think that’s enough. Sometimes it seems like that’s all we can do.”

Graham gave a small nod. “You know I’ll always be your friend.”

A faint smile graced Regina’s lips. “I can’t pretend I know much,” she murmured, “but that, Graham, that, I know.”

They sat together on the sofa in the living room, neither of them saying a word. It wasn’t until the sun began peeking out over the horizon that Regina broke the silence. 

“I miss her,” she said. 

“Yeah,” said Graham, “Me too.” He looked at her apprehensively. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

Regina stared out at the sun as its light came flooding in through the windows. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

Graham simply nodded. “I guess so.”

“Until then, I’d like you to help me on a project.”

The Sheriff arched a curious eyebrow. “What sort of ‘project’ did you have in mind?”

Regina’s smile widened into a half-smirk. “Just a bit of renovation.”

“Sorry, but I’m no carpenter, Regina. You’d be better off asking Marco.”

“This is going to be too much of a handful for Marco.”

“Let me guess. By ‘a bit’ of renovation, you mean, ‘a lot?’”

Regina patted his leg playfully. “You’re a fast learner,” she teased, “Now then, how about some coffee?”

The Sheriff grimaced. “You know I hate coffee.”

Regina chuckled. “What kind of policeman doesn’t drink coffee?”

“The ‘Graham Humbert’ kind.”

“What would you like, then?”

“Do you have any cranberry juice?”

Regina was visibly taken aback by this. “Cranberry juice? Well, that’s interesting,” she said, “but yes, we have some. Let me get that for you.”

She stood up and walked into the kitchen to retrieve the juice from the fridge. She frowned when she realized it was missing. 

“What in the world?” she muttered.

“Something wrong?” asked Graham.

Regina looked over at him, bewildered. “I just bought some juice two days ago,” she said, “and now it’s gone.”

“Well, maybe Henry drank it.”

The brunette shook her head. “He couldn’t have. It was almost completely full yesterday. He should know better than to drink that much juice. Last time he pulled something like this, he wet the bed.”

The more she thought about that, the more she realized that Henry very well could have done it, and likely had. She shut the refrigerator door and moved quietly up the winding staircase towards the boy’s bedroom. She turned the knob without a sound, peeking in to check on him. He was lying on his side with his back towards the door. 

Regina found no trace of the missing juice, though she did notice the walky-talky standing upright on his nightstand. She furrowed her brows in confusion. When had he gotten that? And where? She certainly hadn’t gotten it for him. She could think of no reason why he would even need one. If he had it, then who had the other one? Confused and concerned, she quietly closed the door and made her way back downstairs. 

Graham blinked curiously at her. “Find it?”

“No,” she told him, “but he had one of those hand-held radios in his room. Did you give that to him?”

Graham shook his head. “No. Where’d he get it?”

“I have no idea. That worries me.”

“Would you like me to say something to him about it?”

“I think that would be best,” said Regina, “I doubt he would tell me anything.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Graham assured her.

Regina offered him a soft smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for being here. For being my friend.”

It was impossible for the Sheriff not to notice the longing in her voice and the sadness in her tired eyes.

“I miss her, too,” he said quietly.

Regina gently placed her hand over his, and the two sat together in contented silence as they watched the sun paint the sky.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update.

Regina was alone in her office, flipping through an old photo album consisting mostly of Henry’s baby pictures. She had tears in her eyes, both joyful and somber, and a glass of wine in her hand. She went to turn the page, but paused when the phone started to ring. 

Setting the album aside, she walked slowly to her desk as if in a trance. She hesitated, debating whether or not she should answer. She wanted it to be Emma so badly, but what if it wasn’t? What if she got her hopes up for nothing? What if Emma never called her? What if Emma resented her? Had she been too forward? Had she gone too far when she tried to kiss her? 

She bit her lip, fearful, but ultimately picked up the phone. Clearing her throat, she brought it reluctantly to her ear. 

“H-Hello?” she asked quietly.

“Regina?”

Relief washed over the brunette as she heard the sound of Emma’s angelic voice on the other end. Upon hearing Emma utter her name, she felt a fluttering in her chest, rather than in her stomach. She placed her hand over her heart, feeling it drum beneath her fingertips. 

“Emma,” she whispered, “I was hoping you would call. How are you? How are things in Boston?”

An awkward silence fell between them.

“I’m, uh,” Emma paused, “I’m fine. Just, you know, living life. What about you? Are you doing okay? Is everything alright over there?”

A tight smile graced Regina’s scarlet lips. “I’ve just been looking through some of Henry’s baby pictures,” she said, “He hasn’t said anything else about the book. Actually, he hasn’t said anything, really. He won’t speak to me. I’m worried about him, Emma. Just this morning, I found one of those handheld-radios in his room. Graham said he had nothing to do with it. I have no idea where Henry could have gotten it. I don’t know who he might be talking to, and that scares me.”

“Shit, Regina, that’s— did you ask him about it?”

“I asked Graham to do it, actually. I knew Henry wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Is there anything I can do? Not just about that, but anything at all?”

Regina slowly took a seat at the desk. “Just tell me about your day,” she said softly.

“Ah, well, I tried making lasagna following your recipe, but I may have— I don’t know— burned it,” Emma said sheepishly, “It probably wouldn’t have been as good as yours, anyway.”

“Don’t doubt yourself, Emma. I know you’ll get it next time. I believe in you,” said Regina. There was another pause. “So, what did you do for dinner, then?” she asked.

“I had a pizza delivered,” Emma told her, “from Regina’s Pizza. Weird, huh?”

Regina chuckled. “I suppose so. How was it?”

“Pretty good,” said Emma, “but I bet you could make a better one.”

“Well, if you ever come back to Storybrooke, just let me know ahead of time, and I’ll let you find out for yourself.”

“Will do.”

A loud series of explosions rang out in the background, startling Regina back into temporal sobriety. They sounded like gunshots. She gasped. 

“Emma?! What was that? Are you alright?”

Hearing the panic in Regina’s voice, Emma worked quickly to try and calm her down.

“Hey, hey, Regina, it’s okay!” Emma assured her, “It’s just a movie, don’t worry!”

Relieved, Regina released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She took a deep breath, struggling to calm her thundering heart. She brought her glass to her lips and sipped her wine slowly.

“Forgive me,” she said, “I’m not exactly sober right now.”

“No, I should apologize,” said Emma, “I shouldn’t be on the phone with the TV blaring. Sorry for freaking you out.”

“It’s alright,” Regina told her, “I was just worried something might have happened to you.”

“I’m fine, Regina, I promise.”

“Alright then,” the brunette said, still unsure, “So, what is it you’re watching?”

“RoboCop. The original. You ever see it?”

Regina grimaced. “That’s much too gory for me, Emma,” she said, “though I must admit, I appreciate the satire.”

“What kinds of movies do you like, then?”

“I don’t watch many movies,” said Regina, “I’ve mostly just seen whatever Henry wanted to see.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, you know, whatever it is ten-year-old boys like. Star Wars, Transformers, the Avengers, that sort of thing.”

“I guess that makes me a ten-year-old boy, then,” Emma joked.

The two of them shared a laugh. 

“It seems Graham might just be one, as well.”

“Graham likes Star Wars?”

Regina grinned. “Of course. He likes to pretend his nightstick is a lightsaber when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Emma snickered. “Does he make the sound?”

“Every time.”

“That’s great. So, does he also like RoboCop?”

The brunette groaned. “Don’t even get me started. He’s the one who made me watch it in the first place. Thankfully, I’ve never had to advise him not to twirl a loaded gun around on his finger.”

“Yeah, that’s not the smartest idea,” Emma said with a chuckle.

“You know, I will say this, Emma,” Regina told her, “I got the most satisfaction out of seeing RoboCop shoot a rapist’s dick off.” 

Emma’s brows furrowed. There was no longer any humor in the Mayor’s words. Only bitterness and contempt. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, but chose not to question it.

“Yeah,” she said, “He totally deserved it.”

“He deserved far more.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Regina started to retort, but realized just how tightly she was clenching her teeth, and how badly her hands were shaking. Had she still been holding her glass, she’d have undoubtedly spilled the wine. She let out a quiet sigh, resting her head in her hand as she felt a sharp pain beginning to spread through her temples. 

“You okay, Regina?”

“Just getting a bit of a headache,” said the brunette, “Thank you, though. Very few take the time to ask me how I’m doing, although the ones that do ask, well, they don’t really care either way. But Graham cares. You care. If only Henry cared, too.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” said Emma, “He’s going to have to.” 

There was yet another pause on Emma’s end. The TV was now silent in the background. There was only the sound of Emma’s uneven breaths. 

“Emma?” whispered Regina.

“Regina, I’ve got to tell you something,” the blonde said, sounding increasingly apprehensive. “It’s crazy, I know, but it’s the truth.”

“What is it?”

“When I was on my way back to Boston, I found Henry’s book in my backseat. I don’t know how it got there. I never saw him leave his room, and my car was locked the entire time I was at your house,” said Emma, “but that’s not even the strangest part. I actually looked through it after I got to my apartment.”

Regina swallowed. “And?”

“I makes no sense, but the characters in this book look so much like the people in Storybrooke. I know, it’s insane. At first I thought that maybe someone just had too much time on their hands and based all these illustrations on real people, but then I found a picture of my baby blanket.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, that’s impossible,” said Emma, “but I’m telling you, somehow— some way— someone out there got a good look at my old blanket and drew it in perfect detail. It’s an exact match, Regina. It even has my name stitched into it. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it is. I didn’t tell you this before, but Henry also said that I was in the book. I can’t get my mind off of it. I can’t make sense of it. I wish I could show you. You just need to see it for yourself.”

Regina hesitated. “You say the characters look like people in Storybrooke. I’m guessing I’m in it, too?”

“Well, not really you, but an exact likeness,” Emma told her, “There’s even a scar.”

“And am I the Evil Queen?”

“That’s what it says,” said Emma, “but that’s ridiculous, of course. There’s no way you’re evil. I haven’t known you that long, Regina, but I don’t think there’s one evil bone in your body. I’ve gotta say, though, I think you’d make a damn good Queen.”

Regina chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You know, it’s funny,” she said, “My name actually does mean ‘Queen.’”

“Perfect,” said Emma.

“Pardon?”

“You told me I was your Knight in Shining Armor,” rasped the blonde, “Every Knight needs a Queen, and every Queen needs a Knight. Will you be my Queen?”

Regina’s eyes glistened with tears. “Yes,” she murmured, “Yes, Emma, I will be your Queen.”

She could almost hear Emma grinning through the phone. 

“Perfect,” the blonde said again, “Oh, and Regina?”

“Yes, Emma?”

“Hang in there, alright? I promise, I’ll come back. I can’t say when, exactly, but I will be back. Hopefully someday soon. Until then, my Queen.”

Regina smiled uncontrollably, even as tears streaked her face. “Until then, my Knight.”

\---

Henry’s eyes were as wide as saucers, wet with tears. He had the phone to his ear, overwhelmed with a sense of betrayal as he overheard nearly every word between the Evil Queen and his true mother. He couldn’t believe it. Emma was supposed to be the Savior! She was supposed to defeat the Evil Queen, not defend her! Hearing all this was like a stab, not in the back, but through the heart. 

He carefully placed the phone back on the receiver and rushed out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom, retrieving the walky-talky and opening the window near his bed. He looked to the hills across town, on which stood an estate far grander than this one. He pressed the button on the side of the little radio as he brought it to his lips.

“She’s on the Queen’s side,” he said quietly, sniffling, “She’s not a Savior, she’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t long before a stoic voice came through the radio.

“We have to have patience, Henry,” said the voice, “She’ll come back, sooner or later, and she’ll realize who Regina truly is.”

“Are you sure? How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen it,” the voice told him, “in my hat.”

“…In your hat?”

“Yes. My hat shows me what it wants me to see.”

Henry frowned. “Don’t you think that sounds a little, I don’t know, crazy?”

“Not crazy,” said the voice, “Just a little mad. We’re all mad here, Henry Mills.”


	12. Chapter 12

“I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” shouted Henry.

Graham scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He was standing in the doorway, eyeing Henry skeptically as the boy sat pouting on the bed. 

“I think you do, lad,” said the Sheriff, “I’m just worried, is all. So’s your mum. All we want to know is who gave you the radio, and who you’re talking to.”

“She’s making you do this, isn’t she?! She’s controlling you! Using you to spy on me!”

“Whoa, Henry, take it easy. I’m just doing her a favor. I promise you, I’m no spy.”

“You’re only saying that because she wants you to! She’s using your heart to control you, like a— like a puppet!”

Graham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Henry,” he sighed, “this has got to stop. You’re really hurting your mum. She’s got enough on her plate as it is. Don’t you realize you’re only making things worse for her? You can’t keep telling her she’s some ‘Evil Queen,’ or that you don’t love her, because she most certainly loves you, Henry. More than you know.”

“No she doesn’t!” Henry snapped, “And she is the Evil Queen! She can’t love anyone! She’s not my mom, either! Emma is!”

Graham clenched his teeth in exasperation. “Henry, that is enough!”

This shocked the boy into silence. He stared at the Sheriff, eyes wide with disbelief. Graham had never snapped at him like this before. For as long as he had known the man— which was all his life— Graham was always patient. Always kind. 

“Emma may be your birth mother,” Graham said, much more calmly now, “but Regina is your mum. She adopted you, raised you as her own. Do you really think she would have done that if she didn’t love you? She fell in love with you the moment she first held you in her arms. She does everything she can to give you a good life, and how do you repay her? You scream at her, accuse her of being evil, tell her you don’t love her, that she isn’t your mum, and you run away to Boston by yourself, not stopping to think how it would affect her, or how dangerous that was!”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing heavily.

“You scared her to death, you know. What were you thinking, running away to Boston? How did you even get there? You don’t have any money, nor means of transportation. The nearest bus station is fifty miles away! Buses don’t come here! How did you do it, Henry? None of it makes sense. How did you find Emma? How do you know she’s really your birth mother, anyway? When Regina brought you home, she told me it was a closed adoption. There’s no public record of your birth mother. Unless you took one of those fancy DNA tests— which I know you didn’t— there’s no way you could possibly know that.”

Henry folded his arms in defiance, turning away so that he wouldn’t have to meet Graham’s stern gaze any longer.

“Henry, please, talk to me.”

“I can’t. For all I know, she’s just making you say all this. She’s listening in on us. She’s using your heart against you!”

“Henry, what does that even mean?! ‘Using my heart against me?’ What in God’s name does that mean?!”

“She’s the Queen!” said Henry, “And you’re the Huntsman! She hired you to bring her Snow White’s heart, but you brought back the heart of a deer instead, so she ripped your heart out and kept it for her collection! She uses it to control you!”

Graham stared at him incredulously. “And you honestly believe that?”

“It’s true!”

“No, it isn’t, Henry! It’s absurd! Besides, don’t you think I’d remember something like that? Seems like it’d be hard to forget.”

“That’s just it!” said Henry, “You don’t remember who you are, because you’re under the Queen’s curse! You only think you’re her friend, but she doesn’t really care about you! She’s just using you to get to me! You’re like her slave!”

The Sheriff scoffed. “Henry, for the love of God, there’s no such thing as hexes or curses. Your mum’s not the Evil Queen, and I’m certainly no ‘Huntsman.’ I’ve got a heart. It’s right here, in my chest, where it belongs. I can hear it. I can feel it. Trust me, it’s there. If it wasn’t, I don’t think I’d be standing here having this ridiculous conversation, would I? And don’t you ever speak about your mum that way again. We’ve been friends since, well, forever. She isn’t ‘using’ me. She cares about the two of us, as I care about the two of you. We’re like family, the three of us, and I know if Emma was here, we’d be complete.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Who, Emma? Of course.”

“Do you love her?”

“As a friend? Absolutely.”

“Do you love her as more than a friend?”

“Afraid not, lad,” said Graham, “Why do you ask?”

“I just thought that maybe if you loved her, you could give her True Love’s Kiss and break the curse.”

Graham threw his hands up in defeat. “Well, I tried,” he said, turning and exiting the bedroom.

As soon as the man was downstairs, Henry got up and closed the door. He then lifted up his mattress and retrieved the hidden radio. He brought it to his lips and pressed the button on the side.

“Hello?” he asked quietly.

“Who— are— you?” came the mysterious voice.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s me.”

“But of course,” said the voice, “What’s the latest?”

“I tried getting through to Graham, but he didn’t believe me. I don’t know what to do, Hatter. Tell me you have a plan.”

“I always have a plan, Henry. They may not always work, but I do have them.”

“So, what do I do?”

“As of now? Just be patient, like I told you. I put the book in your mother’s car. That was the easy part. The hard part will be helping her see the truth.”

“So there’s nothing I can do?”

“I just told you what you could do. Weren’t you listening? You clearly aren’t very good at being patient. That’s interesting, considering you’ve grown up in a town where time doesn’t exist.”

“If time doesn’t exist, then how am I growing up?”

“Excellent question. You weren’t brought here by the Dark Curse. You were born in this world, so you’re exempt from the curse’s magic. The rest of us, well, we’re doomed.”

“How did you escape the curse, then?”

“Oh, you silly boy, I didn’t escape the curse. There is no escaping it. Not until the Savior breaks it, that is. No, I was always this way. The Queen made sure of it. She made me suffer. She made it so that everyone else thinks I’m just the madman in the hills who sees things in his hat and talks to rabbits. That, in and of itself, is a curse.”

“…But, you are all of those things, aren’t you?”

“Only because I was cursed to be! My curse is awareness, Henry Mills. I see things as they truly are! I’m awake, you see. Everyone else is asleep! Well, almost everyone. I sensed someone— something— awaken from its slumber not long after the Savior arrived. I looked into my hat for answers, and do you know what I saw?”

Henry swallowed nervously. “What?”

“The Dark One is awake.”

The boy gasped. “The Dark One? You mean Mr. Gold?”

“No,” said the Hatter, “I mean Rumplestiltskin. Mr. Gold was a façade, but now he’s gone. I don’t know what he’s planning, but knowing him, it can’t be good. No matter what you do, don’t go anywhere near him. If you see him, run. Run and don’t look back. He doesn’t have magic, and he can’t exactly chase you on that leg of his, but he is still incredibly dangerous— even more so than the Queen. After all, he was the one who made her what she is today.”

“Shouldn’t we be worrying more about him, then?”

“We need to worry about both of them,” said the Hatter, “The Dark One may have taught her magic, but she’s the one who cast the curse. It says so in the book.”

Henry paused. “Um, yeah, about that,” he said, “Where did you say you found it, again?”

“I didn’t ‘find’ it, Henry Mills. The book found me. I knew it was coming, of course. My hat told me so.”

“How does that work, exactly?”

“Some secrets,” whispered the Hatter, “are best kept that way.”

“Come on, Hatter,” Henry whined, “I thought we were in this together?”

“Oh, we are, but if I told you the secret of the hat, you’d go mad. Just. Like. Me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update.

Emma awoke with a gasp. She quickly rolled onto her side to look at the clock on her nightstand. 

8:15 AM.

She groaned. Ever since she left Storybrooke, she’d been waking up at exactly 8:15. Not 8:14. Not 8:16. Always 8:15. That was impossible, and yet, apparently it wasn’t. She didn’t have an alarm, and it certainly wasn’t set that early. 

She closed her eyes, resting her hands on her stomach as she thought back to the dream she’d just had. At the time, it had seemed so vivid, so real, almost like a memory. It was as if that was the reality, and this was the fantasy. 

She’d been walking down a long, dark corridor. The walls were built from stone, lined with eerie torches and riddled with cobwebs. There was a different mirror every ten feet. As bizarre as that was, it was the least of her concerns. 

She remembered hearing a man’s voice coming from one of the mirrors, oddly enough, and when she turned, she saw the face of a man floating behind the glass. He looked like a ghost, cast in a whirling, blue mist. There was pain in his eyes and urgency in his voice.

‘Your Majesty,’ he’d said.

Emma couldn’t remember what else the man had told her, but when his image faded from the mirror, it wasn’t her reflection she found staring back at her. It was Regina’s. Or in this case, the Queen’s, she supposed.

Their eyes were still the same. Tired. Broken. There was pain in those eyes, beautiful though they were, and Emma wanted nothing more than to heal that pain, wherever it had come from. Even then, as the eyes of the Queen stared back at her, Emma couldn’t find so much as a trace of evil within them. 

Only suffering. 

And then, without wanting to, she’d turned away from the mirror, and found herself back in the real world. Or at least, what she thought was the real world. She wasn’t about to go so far as saying she believed in magic, but since leaving Storybrooke, she’d felt as though she was living a lie. She had begun to see just how boring this place really was. Having grown up in the system, she’d never felt at home anywhere. She thought her life was in Boston, but she now realized just how dead she felt inside. 

The one place she’d felt at home was in Storybrooke. 

She had never been one for small towns. She hadn’t liked the closeness. Or so she’d thought. She just kept telling herself the city was better. No one would know her in the city. No one would ask questions. No one would care. 

Small towns were different. Everyone knew each other. They shared what they had. They actually cared. It was like there were no secrets. Storybrooke was unlike any town she’d lived in, big or small. There was something about the place that she could only describe as magical. Not in the literal sense, of course, but if magic truly did exist, it would have to be there. 

The longer she dwelled on it, the more Emma wanted to go back. She needed to go back, she realized. It wasn’t just the town she missed. She missed Regina. She missed Graham. She even missed Henry, despite his impish behavior. She supposed it was inevitable that she’d miss the kid. She had given birth to him, after all, but he wasn’t hers. He was Regina’s, and that was okay. Hell, it was perfect. 

She’d meant it when she said she was glad Regina had been the one to adopt him. She still couldn’t think of anyone she would rather have raising Henry. Emma wasn’t fit to raise children. Regina, on the other hand, seemed like she was born to be a mother. 

And she was a great one, regardless of what Henry— or anyone else— believed. 

Emma just wished she could have had a mother like that. Maybe then she wouldn’t be such a pathetic loser. She’d still be a freak, of course, but maybe she could have at least some semblance of happiness. She could have hope, hope that maybe she could be somebody. Somebody important. Maybe even special.

Maybe she could be a hero.

\---

“Henry, it’s time for school,” Regina called. 

There was no answer. 

“Henry?”

Again, no response. 

Regina sighed and made her way carefully up the stairs, her heels clicking against the wood, and towards her son’s bedroom. The door was ajar. 

“Henry, sweetheart, come on,” she said softly as she entered, “You don’t want to be late for—” 

She froze when she realized the room was empty. The window was open, and a makeshift chain made from Henry’s bedsheets was hanging out. Panicking, Regina suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She rushed back downstairs as quickly as she could, hurrying into the kitchen towards the phone. She started to dial the number for the police station, but knowing Graham, he was probably halfway through a stack of apple pancakes. She called the diner instead.

Ruby picked up. “Hi, thanks for calling Granny’s. This is Ruby speaking. What can I get y—”

“Ruby! Is Graham there?” Regina asked, clearly distraught.

“O-Of course,” said Ruby, “What’s the matter? Are you alright, Madame Mayor?”

“Henry’s missing!” the Mayor sobbed, “Will you hand the phone to Graham, please? I need to speak with him!”

“Yeah, of course,” said Ruby, “Hey, Graham, you’ve got a call! It’s the Mayor. She says Henry’s missing again!”

Graham’s voice came through the phone just seconds later. “Regina! You said Henry was missing?”

“Yes, I tried calling him downstairs, but he didn’t answer, so I went to check on him. He had a bunch of sheets tied together like a rope! He’s run away again! It must have been sometime during the night!”

“Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“All I can think of is the castle,” Regina wept, “but why would he sneak off like that just to go there?”

“I don’t know, Regina,” Graham told her, “but we’ll find him. Don’t worry. He can’t have gone far!”

“He very well could have! He made it all the way to Boston, remember?”

“Hold tight, Madame Mayor. I’m on my way.”

\---

Graham pulled up in front of the mansion just minutes later, having rolled a few stop signs along the way. Regina was already waiting for him on the sidewalk, hugging herself tightly and biting her lip in uncertainty. Her face was streaked with dark tears, having melded with her mascara. She was in too much of a shock to worry about such things. She practically jumped into the cruiser the moment Graham unlocked the door for her.

“I looked everywhere,” Regina told him, “I even checked the shed. He’s gone, Graham!”

“We’ll find him, Regina,” the Sheriff assured, “I’ve already told Leroy. Now everyone will know to keep an eye out for him.”

The brunette let out what sounded like something between a laugh and a sob. 

“Thanks, Graham,” she said softly. 

In that moment, she felt there was nothing she could do but pray. Not to God, necessarily, but to whoever— or whatever— might have been listening. 

‘Please. Help me find him,’ she pleaded inwardly, ‘Help me find my boy.’

Just then, the car phone began to ring. Graham had it to his ear in an instant. “Sheriff Humbert,” he said.

“I believe I know where the boy is, Sheriff,” came the unnerving voice of Mr. Gold.

“Oh? And where might he be, then?” Graham’s eyes nearly burst out of his head when he heard the answer. “God help us,” he muttered.

“What? What is it? Where is he, Graham?” Regina asked worriedly.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “Gold says he saw him heading for the hills.”

The color drained from Regina’s face. “Jefferson,” she whispered.

Graham could only nod. His expression was grim as he flipped the silver switch near the wheel, activating the sirens atop the cruiser. Neither he nor Regina said a word as they sped out towards the hills. They were too terrified to speak. Both their hearts pounded violently in their chests. Halfway there, Graham took a puff from his inhaler and finally managed to find his voice. 

“Regina,” he said quietly, “Would you mind handing me my gun from the glove compartment?”

Regina didn’t hesitate to do as he asked, though her hands trembled as she picked up the gun. It was almost ice-cold, indicating that it hadn’t been used in some time. She’d never been too keen on guns, but she understood their importance, especially in that moment. 

“When we get there, I want you to stay in the car,” he told her.

“What? No, Graham, I—” 

“No, Regina,” the Sheriff said firmly, “Jefferson’s unpredictable. You know that. Who knows what he might do? I can’t let you get hurt.”

“But, Henry—”

“I’ll get him out of there, Regina. I promise.”

He couldn’t exactly say the same for himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is VERY dark, but also very important to the plot!

Graham kicked the front door in, gun drawn, not giving a damn about warrants or legalities in that moment. He had a kid to save. 

“Henry!” he shouted, “Henry, where are you?!”

He moved quickly but cautiously down the long hallway, keeping his guard up and his eyes peeled. He heard muffled voices coming from behind the door at the end of the hall. Having no experience with a situation like this, the Sheriff simply used his shoulder as a battering ram, keeping his gun forward and fully-prepared to fire, if need be. 

He found Henry sitting at a table next Jefferson, who was wearing a vintage top-hat and a paisley vest. The two of them were talking over tea. Behind them was an antique shelf, on which a white rabbit stood dressed like a Victorian-era gentleman, the unnerving result of taxidermy. Graham shuddered. Whatever it was they had been talking about would remain a mystery to the Sheriff, who could do nothing but stare at them with confusion and uncertainty.

“What in God’s name is going on, here?” he uttered.

“So glad you could join us, Sheriff,” said Jefferson, “You’re just in time for tea.”

“Henry, let’s go,” Graham said firmly. Henry made no move to get up. “Now!” he barked.

“No! I wanna stay here with Jefferson!”

“It’s not up for debate, Henry! This man is dangerous!”

“Nuh-uh!” Henry protested, “He’s trying to help you!”

“Right, by luring a boy into his home and having tea,” Graham said incredulously, “Let’s go, lad. I mean it. This isn’t a game, Henry. This is serious. You need to get out of here, right now!”

“No, Graham, I’m not leaving! You can’t make me!”

Before the Sheriff could argue, Jefferson had flipped his hat onto the table and swiftly pulled out a hidden knife, which he pressed to Henry’s throat as he held the petrified boy against him.

“HENRY!” Graham roared, aiming his gun at the madman, “Let him go, ya bastard! I said let him go! Right-bloody-now!”

Henry was far too traumatized to move, much less scream. Tears streaked his face. His eyes were wide with disbelief. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably. He couldn’t exactly look down, but he could feel himself beginning to wet his pants. Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion and a roar of agony from Jefferson as hot lead barreled into his shoulder, knocking him backwards into the shelf and causing him to drop the knife. 

“Henry, get out of here!” shouted Graham.

This time, Henry didn’t think twice about obeying. He was down the hall and out the front door in a heartbeat, sobbing relentlessly as he darted onto the lawn. He gasped when he crashed into Regina, whose arms closed tightly around him, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. 

“Henry!” she sobbed, “Henry, sweetheart, are you alright?! What happened in there?! I thought I heard a gunshot!”

Before Henry could respond, Graham came storming out of the house with Jefferson in handcuffs, forcing the bleeding man roughly into the back of the cruiser. 

“Graham!” cried Regina, “What happened?!”

“This rotten bastard threatened to kill Henry! I shot him before he had the chance!”

“Henry, what were you thinking?! Why would you run away again, knowing how I would react?! And why, of all places, would you come here? Don’t you know how dangerous this man is? How many times have I told you never to go into the hills?!”

A thousand excuses ran through Henry’s mind, but he couldn’t find his voice. He just stood there in tears, trembling in fear as he stared up at the Evil Queen. In that moment, he found that he didn’t care if she was evil or not. All he wanted was someone to comfort him. Someone to assure him that everything was alright, and that he was safe. Someone to love him. 

He wanted his mother. 

The Queen may not have been it, but he supposed she was his only option, and so, he leaned into her embrace, continuing to sob as she held him in her arms. For a second, brief though it was, it felt like she truly did love him. 

But that couldn’t be right, Henry thought. 

She was just here to ensure the Hatter was out of the way, and that he had no more allies in the fight to break her curse. That had to be it! She was like Darth Vader, looking to destroy his Rebellion! She didn’t really care about his wellbeing! She just wanted to keep him from digging any deeper into the truth! He made no mention of this to her, however, not wishing to let her in on any of his plans. She held him tight in her lap as Graham drove them all back to town. 

The Sheriff dropped Regina and Henry off at the mansion before taking Jefferson to the hospital to get the bullet out of his shoulder. It took a little over two hours to remove the bullet and bandage the wound. 

In that time, the Hatter’s estate was left unguarded. The door was wide open. There were no witnesses. No one saw Mr. Gold limping his way out from the forest behind Jefferson’s mansion. No one saw him enter the front door, hobble down the hallway, or retrieve the velvet top-hat from its place on the table. No one saw the devious smirk on his cold lips as he disappeared back into the trees.

\---

That night, after Graham locked up the station and shut off all the lights, Jefferson sat alone in his dark, cramped cell. The one next to him was now empty, much to his relief. Having to listen to Leroy’s drunken ramblings had only driven him further into madness. Jefferson enjoyed silence. It helped to calm him down. What he didn’t like was the darkness, or rather, the things lurking within it. 

“Hello, Dearie,” came a voice. 

Jefferson’s blood ran cold. “You,” he whispered. 

He all but jumped up from the cot and stood with his back to the wall. He watched, petrified, as the long-haired man limped out of the shadows, tapping his cane upon the floor.

“How did you get in here?”

“Some secrets,” the old man taunted, “are best kept that way.”

“Don’t you play games with me, Dark One,” Jefferson warned, cursing himself inwardly for sounding so afraid, “I know what you are! I saw it in my hat!”

“Your hat? You mean, this hat?”

The old man pulled a top-hat out of what seemed like thin air. Jefferson suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“No,” he whispered, “How the hell did you get that?”

“Easy,” said the old man, “I simply walked in and took it. I must say, it’s a lovely hat. I’ve never been one to wear hats, but I hear yours is far more than a stylish accessory. Isn’t that right, Hatter?”

Jefferson clenched his jaw. “Why did you come here?”

“Why, to thank you, of course!”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For doing exactly what I had hoped you’d do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I needed you to gain the boy’s trust, that way, he would sneak off to the hills, giving the Sheriff a reason to follow him. You, being the madman you are, got yourself arrested, thus allowing me to get what I wanted.”

“Why?” asked Jefferson, “Why go through all this trouble just to get my hat?”

“Oh, I’ve gotten far more than your hat, Dearie!” the old man cackled, “With you out of the way, there will be no one left to help the boy break the curse!”

Jefferson frowned. “Why would you want to stop us from breaking it? Do you want to be cursed? Now who’s the mad one?”

“Because, Dearie,” said the Dark One, “It was I who cast the curse. Why wouldn’t I want to stop you?”

“What?! That can’t be right! The book said—” 

“The book says many things!” shouted the old man, “But there are pages missing. Words omitted. Scenes scrapped! The Queen was to cast my curse, but she proved too weak in the last second. She couldn’t bring herself to crush the heart of the thing she loved most— her poor, poor father— so I forced her to do it anyway!” 

He erupted with demented, childlike giggles. 

“What fools you and the boy have been, thinking it was she who did all this! She’s just as cursed as the rest of you! She tried going back on our deal, so I made sure she suffered! Day in and day out, tormented with the memories of her dear, departed husband! I tweaked them, of course! It wouldn’t make much sense for her to remember a tyrannical King! So I thought, why not make him a corrupt Mayor, instead?”

Again, he giggled. 

“Why are you telling me all this?” asked Jefferson, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll talk?”

“Not at all,” said the Dark One, “You won’t be talking for much longer.”

He dropped the hat on the table and retrieved a thin cable from his pocket as he stepped closer to the bars. Before Jefferson could even think to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, the Dark One threw down his cane and pulled a key from his other pocket, silently unlocking the cell door. 

The two men struggled, and Jefferson very nearly had the upper hand, but the Dark One, even without magic, proved far too strong. In the end, the Hatter was left gasping for breath that never came. The cable was wound tightly around his throat, suffocating him. Soon, everything became shrouded in darkness. 

\---

When Graham entered the station the next morning, having just enjoyed a hot plate of apple pancakes, he was horrified by what he found. There, hanging from the bars with a cable tied around his neck, was Jefferson. Dead. 

Graham dialed Regina’s number slowly, unable to take his eyes off of the blue-faced man. His hand trembled as he brought the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” came the Mayor’s voice, clearly on-edge from yesterday’s chaos.

“Regina, it’s me,” the Sheriff whispered.

“Graham? What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Graham took a puff from his inhaler, finding himself unable to breathe. “Oh yeah,” he said quietly, “Something happened, alright. I’m gonna need you to come down to the station as soon as you can.”

\---

Regina arrived nearly twenty minutes later. “Sorry I’m late, Graham, I just had to drop Henry off at—”

She was left speechless upon seeing Jefferson’s body hanging in his cell with a cable around his neck. He had a look of utter terror on his face, forever frozen in a silent scream. She suddenly felt nauseous. She had to turn away, unable to stomach the sight any longer. 

“Did you call the coroner?” she asked quietly.

Graham just nodded. “He’s on his way.”

A wave of darkness washed over them, even as the sunlight came flooding in through the windows.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains a minor flashback with a graphic description of attempted suicide, but like the last chapter, it is important to the plot.

Seeing the corpse hanging in the cell left Regina shaken to the core. Plagued with thoughts of Him, she tried to eradicate them with the strongest scotch she could find. For a moment, it had helped to ease her nerves, but her fears came flooding back into her mind like the alcohol in her blood. She tried to fight them, she really did, but her efforts were in vain. 

‘Maybe He was right,’ she thought, ‘Maybe I am weak.’

She kept drinking, desperate to find relief from her worries. She drank until she reached the bottom. Panicking, she rushed to her liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Absolut. She was nearly halfway through it before she even reached the couch. She didn’t care about the overwhelming taste. Anything was better than the bitterness upon her tongue. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, downing the vodka with a trembling hand. Once more, she didn’t stop until it was empty. She didn’t even pause to take a breath. By the time the bottle was empty, she was far too gone to care that she’d just consumed twenty-dollars’ worth of alcohol by herself, or that she’d done so on an empty stomach. 

She didn’t even realize she was crying, or how loudly, until Henry came knocking. She wasn’t sure how she made it to the door without stumbling over, but she had, and now she was staring into the conflicted eyes of her son. 

Her son, who hated her, despite all she had ever done for him. Her son, who hated her, despite all the love and affection she’d given him since she first held him in her arms. Her son, who hated her, despite the fact that she would never stop loving him, no matter how badly he hurt her.

“Henry,” she whispered.

The boy winced at the overwhelming scent of alcohol on her breath, though she was too out of it to notice. A grin spread across her tear-streaked face. It lacked all sincerity. There was no joy in it. She looked as if she was in complete agony, even more so as she forced herself to smile. She almost seemed deranged.

For the first time since he learned the truth about his so-called mother, Henry looked into her eyes— really looked— and found himself staring into the eyes of Suffering incarnate. He flinched when she knelt down in front of him, cupping his cheeks with her trembling hands and planting a kiss upon his forehead. He didn’t move. Or rather, he couldn’t, not when she had him locked in her embrace as if never planning to let go.

“I love you, Henry,” she said tearfully, her lip quivering. “I love you so, so, so much. I want you to know that, even if you don’t believe it. Even if you spend the rest of your life hating me. No matter what you think, no matter what anyone else tells you, just remember that I do love you. I love you with all the pieces of my heart.”

She brought a hand to the back of his head, resting her chin on the boy’s shoulder and sobbing openly when she finally felt him return her embrace (albeit halfheartedly). She squeezed her eyes shut, hugging him even tighter now.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” she murmured, “Even if I can’t.”

She didn’t remember much after that.

Just flashes of an iron fortress, dark as night, with a labyrinth of mirrors stretching, twisting, and winding, all through the stronghold. Brief flashes of faces she couldn’t quite recognize, flickering like a dying candle, yet hazy, like the mist over a graveyard. She vaguely recalled the quiet hiss of serpents, followed by a deathly silence, and then, nothing. 

\---

She awoke in a cold sweat, finding herself sprawled out on the sofa in the living room with a cool, damp cloth draped across her forehead and a thin blanket pulled over her. She groaned, shielding her eyes as the fingers of Dawn stretched across the horizon. She was suffering the most agonizing headache she’d ever had. It felt as though someone had split her skull with an axe. 

How could she have been so stupid, thinking it would do her any good to drink as much as she did? She should have been dead. She certainly wished she was. Maybe then the pain would go away. For good, this time. Not just the pain in her head, but in her broken heart, and deep within her tortured soul. 

She had spent countless hours wishing she was dead. She’d run through more scenarios in her mind than she could remember (or liked to remember), but of all the possibilities, only one came to fruition. He had told her she wouldn’t do it, that she was just bluffing, and that it was the coward’s way out. Oh, the bittersweet irony.

She’d choked down nearly an entire bottle of pain pills, hoping to end her suffering once and for all, but He had found her on the bathroom floor, half-dead with her face in a pool of her own blood. He’d taken her to the hospital, enraged that she would dare bleed out onto His floor. It didn’t matter that she’d cracked her skull on the tile. It didn’t matter that she’d had a tube down her throat and her stomach pumped. It didn’t matter that she’d been mere inches from the cold lips of Death. 

He hadn’t visited her in the hospital. He had far more important things to worry about, after all, like filling His blood with whiskey and sticking it to the mistress He thought she didn’t know about. But she didn’t dare bring any of this up, knowing He would break far more than her skull if she said so much as a word about it.

Things only grew worse when she was finally released. He hadn’t driven her back from the hospital. He hadn’t even bothered sending anyone to get her. She’d had to walk, but halfway there, Graham happened to be driving by and noticed she was alone, hugging herself tightly in order to keep warm. The Sheriff brought her back to the mansion, but he might as well have taken her to jail. With the Monster she begrudgingly called her husband, she felt as though she was locked in a cage with no way out.

She thought she had won her freedom when He strung Himself up in the attic, but she was wrong. So terribly, utterly wrong. She still saw His face in her nightmares. Lately, though, things had been different. He wasn’t the only one haunting her dreams anymore. He was a demon, tormenting her in every way imaginable. However, He was now being outmatched by an angel with a head of gold— her Knight in Shining Armor. 

Her Swan.

Fighting against the excruciating pain shooting through her head, Regina rose up from the couch and slowly made her way into her office. She went to her liquor cabinet, gathered up the assortment of bottles, and headed into the kitchen. Then, without so much as blinking, she turned every last one on its head, watching with an unreadable expression as the poison drained away. 

“No more,” she promised.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another double update.

Emma had just pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it carefully atop the stove when the phone on the counter started to ring. She set her oven-mitts aside and pinned it between her shoulder and her ear as she climbed up onto her wooden stool to inspect her latest attempt at Regina Mills’ famous lasagna. 

“Hello?” she asked.

“Emma,” came the soft voice of the Mayor, “I hope this isn’t a bad time, but I just called to see how you were doing.”

“I’m pretty good,” Emma told her, “Just finished cooking another pan of lasagna.”

“Oh? How is it?”

“I haven’t tasted it yet,” said the blonde, “I’m sure it’s not gonna be as good as yours, though.”

“Oh, come now, Emma,” said Regina, “You know you put just as much effort into that last batch as I did. That was our lasagna.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, uh, how are things in Storybrooke?”

There was a pause on Regina’s end. “…Hectic,” she said at last.

“What happened? Anything major?”

“Henry ran away again,” the brunette explained sadly, “only this time, he climbed out of his window by tying his sheets together. He snuck off to the hills where a man named Jefferson lived. Jefferson mostly kept to himself, but he was clinically insane. Paranoid schizophrenia, I came to find out. He was a very unpredictable man. How Henry came to know him, I haven’t the slightest clue, but it turns out they were contacting one another using portable radios.”

“What? Regina, is Henry okay? That guy didn’t hurt him, did he?”

“Apparently he tried,” Regina said quietly, “but Graham put a bullet in his shoulder to subdue him. He left Jefferson in a cell all night, but when Graham came to the station the next morning, Jefferson had hung himself in the cell.”

“Holy shit,” said Emma, “Do you know when it happened? Is there a security tape?”

“You see, that’s where things get even stranger,” said Regina, “The footage from that night is missing. No one has any idea who took it, where it is, or why they stole it.”

“Damn. Is Henry okay?”

“He’s still shaken from the whole thing, as am I, but unfortunately, he’s still convinced that I’m the Evil Queen, and now he’s trying to tell me that Jefferson was actually the Mad Hatter.”

Emma frowned. “You mean like from Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes,” said Regina, “and I’m afraid that Henry thinks I might’ve had something to do with his death.”

“Regina, that’s ridiculous,” Emma told her, “How can he possibly think something like that? And what proof does he have?”

Regina laughed, but there was no humor in it. 

“Why would he need proof? Aside from that book of his, he has nothing else to corroborate his story that I’m some heartless witch. He seems to believe the burden of proof is on me, and not the other way around. Apparently it’s up to me to prove that I’m not this ‘Evil Queen,’ as if it isn’t already clear that none of this is real. How can it be? More importantly, why would it? Even if I was a fairytale character, what reason would I have to curse an entire town? There’s only one person I would ever want to cast a curse on, and He’s dead.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

There was another pause on Regina’s end. “It’s not important,” she said at last, “Forget I said anything.”

“O-Okay,” Emma said, seemingly taken aback.

The brunette sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now, is all.”

“I understand. I shouldn’t have pried. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s alright, Emma,” Regina said softly, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a computer, would you?”

“Yeah, just an old laptop. I don’t even know why I bought it, honestly. I don’t really use it much.”

“Would it be too much to ask of you to email me pictures of that book? I’d like to see just what it is that has Henry believing all of this nonsense.”

“Actually, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said Emma, “I was gonna wait to tell you, but I’ve been thinking a lot about settling down in Storybrooke. Permanently.”

“Oh, Emma, that’s wonderful!” Regina said, and it was clear to Emma that she meant it. “When exactly will you be coming?”

“I’d say by the end of the month.”

“Do you need help moving anything? I can always send Graham up there to give you a hand.”

“No, that’s okay,” said Emma, “I don’t have much to move, anyway. I’ll probably just hire a couple of movers to help with the bed and the couch. Maybe rent a U-Haul.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” said the brunette.

“Regina?”

“Yes, Emma?”

“There wouldn’t happen to be any houses near the beach, would there? I couldn’t exactly find anything out on Google.”

“…No, why?” 

It was impossible not to notice the apprehension in Regina’s voice, but Emma decided not to say anything. 

“I was just thinking back to when I brought Henry home,” Emma explained, “He mentioned there was a beach. I told him I’d like to have my own little place on the sand, but I guess if there aren’t any, I can just look for something else.”

“You know you can always stay with Henry and I,” Regina told her.

“Believe me, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that would be a good idea. I wouldn’t want to drive you two even further apart. I think I did enough damage already, and I, uh, don’t wanna be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Emma.”

As much as Emma wanted to argue otherwise, she found no deception in the woman’s words. This, in addition to simply hearing Regina’s hypnotic voice, helped to soothe the ache of loneliness festering in her heart. She wasn’t sure what drove her to say this, but the words left her lips before she could even think to stop them.

“I didn’t tell anyone this,” she said softly, “but the day Henry showed up was actually my birthday. I’d just gone out and bought myself a cupcake, and I know I’m probably not supposed to say this, but do you know what I wished for?”

Regina chuckled. “I can’t even begin to imagine.” 

A faint smile graced the blonde’s pale lips as a single tear slipped down her cheek. 

“The same thing I always wish for,” she murmured, “A family.”


	17. Chapter 17

One month later…

The Volkswagen slowed to a halt at the edge of town. Emma was gripping the wheel with tight, trembling fists. She had Graham’s rosary hanging from the mirror again, and her skateboard was occupying the passenger seat alongside a cardboard box full of her most valuable possessions. 

Henry’s vexatious book was in the backseat, momentarily forgotten beneath the pile of what few clothes she owned. The napkin Regina had left for her at the diner was still in the glove compartment, now joined by the thousand-dollar check. She couldn’t bring herself to spend it. Not yet. 

Her eyes fell upon the wooden sign up ahead. ‘Welcome to Storybrooke,’ it said. A soft smile graced her lips. She had been to countless cities, seen similar signs more times than she liked to remember, but this was the one place she truly felt welcome. She couldn’t quite bring herself to call it home. Maybe someday. Just not today. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She was pulled from her thoughts when the dreamy voice of Davy Jones began singing to her from the radio.

‘If a man can give a penny for another person’s thoughts, then a man can spend a little more in thanks for all he’s got. If a man can give a valentine for another person’s heart, then a man can give a bit more love than he has got to start. On the road to love! On the road to love! The road to love that winds and bends a good man’s mind!’

It had started to rain about halfway to Maine, but it hadn’t been too hard to get through. Now, however, it was beginning to pour, and Emma could barely see, even with the windshield wipers at maximum speed. She reluctantly continued on, driving slowly and squinting to see whether or not she was still on the road. Thankfully, it was only five minutes later that the rain started to let up. Emma sighed in relief, speeding up so she could get to Mifflin Street as quickly as (legally) possible.

Her relief was short-lived, however, for she began to wonder— for what felt like the millionth time— if this was the right decision. What if Regina had changed her mind? What if the woman didn’t want her staying at the mansion anymore? What if she couldn’t find a place to live? She kept telling herself it would all work out, and that she would be happy here, but the self-doubt was deeply engrained in her. It wouldn’t just go away overnight. 

It felt like an eternity before she actually pulled up in front of the Mayor’s mansion. Seconds after parking, she heard a siren growing louder— closer— and when she looked in her mirror, she saw a familiar police cruiser speeding around the corner and towards her beloved car. It parked directly behind her, and out stepped Graham. He quickly approached the Volkswagen, peering in at her with an unreadable expression. The second Emma rolled down the window, a wolfish grin spread across the Sheriff’s face.

“Welcome back, Emma,” he said softly, “We really missed you.”

The blonde offered him a warm smile as she felt a peculiar fluttering in her chest. She had never been missed before. Growing up, no matter where she went, the people in charge of her were always more than happy to be rid of her. To them, she was a burden. But not to Regina, and for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, that was enough. 

“I missed you, too,” she told him, “Oh, and I never got to thank you for the rosary. It’s very beautiful.”

Graham’s smile softened. “I’m glad you think so. It’s a family heirloom.”

Emma could only gape at him. “What? Graham, I can’t just keep something that belongs to your family!”

“But you are family, Emma.”

The blonde couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her face, nor the swell of warmth in her chest as she heard this. Then came the tear that rolled down her cheek. She looked to the bronze rosary, not wishing for the Sheriff to see the wetness on her face, but in doing so, she only made the tears fall even harder.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked Graham.

Emma slowly turned to meet his worried gaze. “Yeah,” she rasped, “It’s just that, well, I’ve never had a family. I’m just happy you would welcome me into yours.”

Graham extended his hand to her and she squeezed it gently. 

“Thank you, Graham.”

“Of course. Do you need any help with your things?”

“I’ll come back for it later,” said Emma, “I just need to see how everyone’s doing.”

“We’ve been pretty busy this past month,” Graham told her.

“Oh? More trouble with Henry?”

“Just the usual ‘curse’ accusations, but nothing like being manipulated by a madman. He’s been grounded since the whole ‘Jefferson’ incident.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Is he okay?”

“Traumatized, yes, but no physical damage.”

“What about Regina?”

Graham sighed. “I’m afraid she’s still shaken as well, though she’s been trying her best not to show it. She’ll barely let Henry out of her sight. When he’s not with her, he’s at school under constant surveillance, or with me.”

“So, he hasn’t tried running away again?”

“Nope. Regina asked me to bolt his windows shut. She was reluctant, knowing he would probably accuse her of keeping him prisoner— which he did— but it was for the best.”

“Can’t say I blame her. I’d probably do the same, if he was my kid.”

The confusion in Graham’s eyes was evident, as was his awareness of Emma’s connection to Henry, but to her relief, the man didn’t question this. At least, not yet. Graham was quick to change the subject. 

“So,” he said, “why don’t we go on in? I know Regina’s eagerly awaiting us.”

Emma took the rosary from the mirror and hung it around her neck. She then climbed out of the car and onto the sidewalk, quickly grabbing her skateboard from the passenger seat before locking it. She wanted to make sure no one got into her Volkswagen again. 

Graham walked alongside her as she rolled her way onto the brick path. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words never came. She was frozen in place, left speechless by the sight of the ramp leading up to the front door. It looked much sturdier than the makeshift one that had been there the last time. This one was made of polished metal, complete with handrails on either side. She was in awe. 

“Billy helped put that together,” said Graham, “He’s a bit of a mousy fellow, but an expert welder.”

Emma slowly rolled her way down the path and up the ramp, holding onto the rails so that she wouldn’t go flying backwards and crashing into Graham. As if expecting her in that very moment, the door opened to reveal the Mayor, beautiful as ever. She was grinning, and it proved contagious, as Emma was quick to follow suit.

“Welcome back, Emma,” the brunette said softly.

When Emma looked into the woman’s eyes, she couldn’t find so much as a trace of suffering within them. It was as if her presence alone was enough to soothe the beautiful brunette’s pain. Maybe— just maybe— Regina could heal her, too. 

“It’s good to be back,” Emma said quietly, unable to take her eyes off of the gorgeous Mayor. 

Regina stepped out of the way so that the blonde could enter. “Please, come in,” she said, “You too, Sheriff.” 

She winked at Graham— or at least, attempted to— once Emma was inside. 

Emma was taken aback when she noticed the stair lift. She looked up to find Regina smiling warmly at her. 

“You really did this?” she asked, “For me?”

“But of course,” said Regina, “and that’s not all. Come with me.”

She led Emma through the living room and into the kitchen, and what the blonde found there robbed her lungs of breath. All of the counters had been replaced with similar, yet shorter, models. 

“We spent the entire month renovating the place,” the brunette explained, “I wanted things to be more accessible for you here.”

“Regina, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did,” replied the brunette, “and so did Graham, Marco, and Billy. If you think that’s impressive, just wait until you see the basement.”

Emma followed after her towards the utility room to the right of the new stove. There, across from the washer and dryer, was the door to an elevator. 

“Oh my God, Regina, how much did you pay for that? You didn’t need to get an elevator!”

“No, but I needed to get you an elevator, dear.”

Emma’s eyes began to well with tears. She was overcome with a whirlwind of raw emotion. She looked up at Regina once more when she felt the woman’s hand come to rest gently on her shoulder. The brunette’s lips were curled into a soft and sympathetic smile. 

“After you, Emma.”

The elevator door slid open as Emma rolled towards it on her skateboard, after which Regina and Graham joined her inside. It closed, and the three of them were silent until they reached the basement. Emma could only stare, wide-eyed, at the array of treasures she found before her. 

There was an enormous bookcase spanning the entire wall to her left, filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of books, movies, and vinyl records. There was a large screen on the far wall, in front of which sat a projector on a table, along with some colorful beanbags and a leather sofa. To the right of the room was a pool-table, a jukebox similar to the one at Granny’s, a refrigerator, and a minibar in the corner. 

“I thought it would be nice to do something with the basement,” said Regina, “especially since you told me you were coming back. I figured it was something we could all enjoy. Henry, too, once he’s no longer grounded, though I’m afraid that won’t be any time soon.”

“Regina, this is amazing!” Emma told her, still marveling over the display, “It’s like everything I could ever want, all packed into one room. I think all it needs is a toilet.”

“Actually, there is one,” Regina said, pointing to a door next to the minibar, “Right over there. I knew it would save you the trouble of having to go back and forth on the elevator.”

“Thank you, Regina,” said Emma, “Thank you so, so, so much. You have no idea how much this means to me!”

The brunette chuckled. “On the contrary, dear, I’d say I have a pretty good idea. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?” asked Emma, “I absolutely love it!”

“Even better,” said Regina, “So, would you like to give it a name?”

“Huh? A name?”

“Of course. It could be the Bat Cave, the Taj Mahal, the Fortress of Solitude, whatever you like.”

“How about,” Emma paused, “the Cave of Wonders?”

Regina clapped her hands together and smiled. “Perfect.”

‘Not as perfect as you,’ thought Emma. 

Not even close.


	18. Chapter 18

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when Regina’s voice emanated from seemingly out of nowhere, that Emma realized there was an intercom installed on the wall next to the minibar. The voice startled her.

“Dinner’s ready, Emma,” Regina said sweetly.

When Emma made it back upstairs in the elevator, she was immediately met with a heavenly aroma which made her mouth water and her stomach roar. She found Regina pulling food out of the oven and Graham setting the table. Henry was nowhere in sight, probably moping around in his room, cooking up more ways to break his mother’s heart.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed Regina smiling at her. If she hadn’t known any better, she might have thought the sun had risen in that very room. It was a smile so bright that it blinded her, but it was the feelings she had for Regina (and vice-versa) that gave her sight.

“Something smells like heaven.”

Regina’s smile widened. “That would be my homemade pizza,” she said, “as promised.”

Emma joined Regina and Graham at the table. She brought a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza to her lips, but paused when she realized Henry still hadn’t come downstairs. Regina seemed to notice her staring at the empty seat next to the Sheriff. 

“He won’t come down,” the brunette explained, no longer smiling, “He’s still convinced that I’m trying to poison him.”

Emma offered a look of sympathy. Unable to resist any longer, she bit into the cheese-covered creation and couldn’t help the quiet hum of appreciation that escaped her as the flavor met her tongue. It came out as more of a moan. She closed her eyes as she chewed, completely oblivious to the light blush creeping onto Regina’s olive cheeks. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, Regina,” she said, “this pizza does make me feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s the pizza of all pizzas.”

To her delight, Regina’s smile quickly returned. 

“Thank you, Emma. You’re too kind.”

“Touché, Regina. Touché.”

“It’s even better with red pepper flakes,” Graham said as he sprinkled his slice with said spice, “Gives it some kick.”

“I’ll have to try that,” said Emma. 

The Sheriff handed her the little bottle and she added a small sample to her pizza. The second she bit into it, she experienced what could only be described as a food-gasm. This time, she let out a full-on moan, neither realizing nor caring how it came across. 

“It’s like I’ve found the Holy Grail,” she declared, “My God, I should have put that on the lasagna!”

Graham gaped at Regina. “You didn’t tell her about the pepper flakes?”

Regina looked back at him sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if she liked spice. I didn’t want to ruin it for her.”

“Well, normally, I’m not a fan of spicy stuff, but this is just awesome!”

When the pizza was nearly gone, Regina decided to try and get Henry to come down again, speaking to him through the new intercom system, but to her dismay, he refused to respond. 

“If only the mics could transfer smells, too,” she said dejectedly, “I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat.”

Emma placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. It certainly seemed to help, though the look in her eyes let Emma know that it did so much more.

“He has no idea what he’s missing,” Emma told her, “and I don’t just mean the pizza.”

Regina watched as the blonde carefully climbed down from the chair, mounting the skateboard and rolling through the living room towards the bathroom. A maelstrom of questions whirled in her mind, and she pondered each and every one of them until Emma returned to the table.

“Would you like me to get you a wheelchair, Emma? I’m sure the hospital has plenty.”

Emma stiffened, an action that did not go unnoticed by her companions.

“Uh, no,” she said quietly, “no, that’s okay. I don’t care for wheelchairs.”

Although puzzled, neither Regina nor Graham questioned this, much to Emma’s relief. The subject fell entirely from the conversation when Graham offered to check on Henry, which was much appreciated by Regina. 

While the Sheriff made his way upstairs with a plate containing the last two slices, Regina rose from the table and gathered up the remaining dishes. Emma insisted on helping her clean them, but she wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re my guest, Emma,” she said, “You don’t have to clean the dishes.”

“No,” said Emma, “but I want to. It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve given me.”

Regina just nodded and moved over so that Emma could join her at the sink, which was now lower. The blonde looked up at her with uncertainty and what looked a bit like remorse. 

“I still can’t believe you went through all this trouble,” Emma said quietly, “You’re gonna have to keep leaning down all the time just to wash the dishes. I’m sorry if all this is an inconvenience for you, Regina. You didn’t have to do all these wonderful things.”

“No, but I wanted to,” Regina countered, “and it’s not an inconvenience. What’s inconvenient is not being able to get around the way most people can. Hell, ‘inconvenient’ doesn’t even come close to scratching the surface. I wanted to do this for you, Emma, after all you’ve given me.”

Emma stared up at the brunette in awe. “What have I given you?” she rasped.

A small smile graced Regina’s scarlet lips. “Everything.”

\---

They were currently sitting together on the leather couch in the basement. There was a comfortable silence between them. It was Regina who eventually broke it, though the moment was not lost. There was still no tension between them. At least, not right then.

“Emma?” Regina asked softly, meeting the blonde’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Is it alright if I ask you why you don’t like wheelchairs?”

Even when faced with such a question, Emma didn’t back down or shy away. She simply sighed and gave the brunette the difficult truth.

“I never really liked them to begin with,” she said, “I’ve always had a hard time controlling them— still do— and I can’t just carry them around like a skateboard. Plus, my board’s special to me. I’ve had it since I was Henry’s age.”

She paused to take a breath, unable to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. 

“Emma?” Regina asked, concerned.

“The main reason I don’t like wheelchairs is,” she paused, breathing shakily, “is because they remind me of when I had Henry.” 

She could no longer bring herself to meet the brunette’s gaze.

“I know that sounds bad. I’m sorry. I just— I had just turned eighteen when I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to be happy. I thought that if I had a kid— a family— I’d at least find some level of happiness. I thought I could have a family with— with that backstabbing loser.”

She slowly lifted her head and locked eyes with Regina. Tears were now streaking her cheeks.

“He abandoned me, Regina,” she whispered, “He said he loved me, and he left me. I told him I was going to have a baby, and he fucking left me. I knew I couldn’t raise a kid on my own. That asshole, he— he told me that if I didn’t ‘get rid of it,’ he would leave. I told him I couldn’t do that. I was absolutely terrified of bringing a child into this world, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to take its life. He left after that. He never called. Never texted. No letters, no emails, nothing. I had to drive myself to the hospital, because I had no one. I had no one with me in that hospital room but the doctors and the nurses, and Henry.”

A wave of guilt washed over her.

“I never held him, Regina. I never even looked at him. I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let him go, and I couldn’t do that to the kid. I couldn’t let him grow up with a freak for a mother. I couldn’t let him be bullied for it, because I knew it’d be inevitable if I kept him. I had to give him up so he could have his best chance at life, unlike me. And now, after all these years, he shows up at my door, and I find out he’s got the life I wanted him to have— the life I wish I could’ve had— but then I see that he’s trying to throw all that away, and for what? For me? For some book he got from a psychopath? I’ll always be grateful to you, Regina, for being the best mother a kid could ask for. It just pains me that Henry can’t see that.”

She was stunned into silence when the brunette’s hands came up to caress her face. She made no move to resist. Instead, she leaned into the touch and allowed her eyes to slip shut as Regina’s thumbs gently wiped away her tears. She was overcome with déjà vu when she felt Regina’s forehead meet her own. The absence of brandy gave way to the sweet scent of apples. There was no need for alcohol. This was intoxicating in ways firewater could only hope to be.

Things seemed to pick up where they left off. Now fully sober, Regina let her lips brush against the beautiful blonde’s, and this time, when she moved to deepen the kiss, Emma made no move to stop her. The intercom, however, had other plans. 

More specifically, Henry.

The boy’s shrill voice rang out from the speaker, startling them into awkward silence as he rambled on— yet again— about how Regina was trying to poison him, and that she had placed an evil spell over Emma and Graham to make them like her, among other nonsensical things.

The two women just stared at one another in disbelief, unsure how to react. When Henry finally finished ranting, Regina got up from the couch and walked silently to the intercom. She pushed the button connecting to Henry’s room and spoke into it as calmly as she could.

“I hope you like being grounded, young man, because you’ve just earned yourself another week.”

Henry started to shout in protest, but his anger was abruptly cut off as Regina shut the volume off. She slowly turned to face Emma with tired eyes. 

“I need to see that damned book,” she uttered.


	19. Chapter 19

It was as if she was looking into a mirror. The same face. The same eyes. The same scar. Take away the long hair, the ostentatious wardrobe, and the darkness, and they would be identical. It was the same with Graham, and with Ruby and Granny. It was the same with Emma’s blanket, as she recalled hearing about. 

It was even the same with Him.

The only difference was that He was a King. He was a corrupt, self-centered, abusive, drunken tyrant, who took what He wanted, when He wanted it. The illustration featured Him in expensive garb, sporting a golden crown and a ridiculous hairstyle. Seeing His face, even on the page of a book, filled her to the brim with anger and pain.

What truly sickened her was the description the book gave Him. Kind. Good. Selfless. Fair. Noble. 

‘Lies,’ she thought, ‘All lies.’ 

He was no King, nor was He any of those things. Worse yet, the pages described her as the Evil Queen. It said horrid things about her. Cold. Cruel. Heartless. Unforgiving. Unjust. Dishonorable. Evil. 

Whoever had written this monstrosity had to have gotten the descriptions mixed up. She shook her head. What was she thinking? It wasn’t real. It was just a stupid book! And yet, Henry was so adamant that it was the ultimate truth, preaching to her as if he was a God-fearing priest, and she, the embodiment of Sin itself. 

It was the voice of an angel that pulled her from the darkness. 

“Regina? You alright?”

She slowly looked up to find the golden-haired beauty watching her with concern. She stared back with an unreadable expression.

“As of now, I’m a lot of things,” she said quietly, “but I wouldn’t say that ‘alright’ is one of them.”

Emma squeezed the brunette’s hand gently in an effort to comfort her. This act brought a faint, yet genuine smile to Regina’s lips. 

“You can’t let it get to you, Regina. It’s only a book. Henry’s gonna have to realize that, sooner than later. Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe I can get through to him. Help him to see that none of this is real.”

Regina gave a small nod. “I think that would be nice. Thank you, Emma.”

“Of course. It might not work, but it’s worth a shot.”

She moved to climb off of the couch, but Regina stopped her. 

“Wait,” the brunette said softly, “not yet. I’d like to just sit here a while longer, if that’s alright with you.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, sure thing.”

She leaned back against the couch and slowly closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Regina’s hand in hers and just being in the woman’s presence. Although she was broken, it made her feel complete. It was like they were two pieces of a puzzle. They didn’t quite fit with anyone else. Only each other. 

And for the two of them, that was enough.

“Would you like to watch a movie? If you can name it, there’s a good chance I’ve got it.”

Emma chuckled as she looked at Regina. “Do you have Buckaroo Banzai?”

“Oh lord, you know about Buckaroo Banzai?”

“Of course! It’s in my top-five!”

Regina shook her head in amusement. “That’s Henry’s favorite, above all other movies. He’s wanted to be like Buckaroo his entire life. Imagine that. A rock-star brain surgeon who fights a bunch of aliens— named John.”

Emma laughed. “Hey, it might be corny, but it’s the best corny movie ever made! I mean, what’s not to love? A rock-star brain surgeon who fights a bunch of aliens— named John— and is also a scientist, a samurai, and a comic-book hero who drives a freaking jet-car through a mountain! And everyone just sort of goes along with it, like it’s no big deal. Tell me you have it.”

Regina grinned. “Of course. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to watch it.”

“Look, if you don’t want to see it again, we can watch something else.”

“It’s alright, Emma. You’re my guest. We can watch whatever you like.”

\---

They were now about halfway through the movie, when Dr. New Jersey was quizzing Reno Nevada about the watermelon in the hydraulic press. 

‘Why is there a watermelon there?’

‘I’ll tell you later.’

Emma laughed aloud. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving that,” she said, “You know, it’s been more than thirty years, now, and we still don’t know why there was a watermelon there!”

Regina chuckled. “Why do you think it’s there, hm? I’ve heard a million different theories from Henry and Graham.”

“Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”

“Yes, I suppose they are.”

They locked eyes, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away. All sounds fell upon deaf ears. They could hear nothing but each other’s heartbeats. Emma was overwhelmed by that same sweet scent of apples, and Regina was unable to resist taking the blonde’s beautiful face in her hands once more. 

This time, when Regina’s lips brushed against hers, it was Emma who deepened the kiss. Both their eyes fell shut and they moaned uncontrollably as their lips met in a long, sweet kiss. It was a real kiss. There were no interruptions. There were no excuses. Just the two of them, clinging tightly to one another as they gave into their desires. 

They broke away momentarily, and when Emma saw the lust burning like coal in Regina’s dark eyes, she went right back in for more. As if the scent of apples wasn’t pleasing enough, Regina’s lips tasted of cinnamon. Emma found herself instantly addicted. She’d never kissed many people in her lifetime, but in that moment, she swore she would never kiss another. 

The only one for her, she realized, was Regina Mills.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of rape and domestic abuse. This chapter turned out a lot darker than I initially intended.

It was a dreary Saturday morning, and Regina had to work that day, and so Emma was left alone in the house with Henry. She figured now was as good a time as any to talk with the kid. It was pouring outside, making her grateful she didn’t have to be out in that. She held her skateboard to her chest as she slowly made it up the steps on the stair lift. Once she was upstairs, she rolled her way towards Henry’s room and quietly knocked.

“Hey, kid,” she said gently, “I wanted to talk to you.”

There was a faint shuffling, and when the door opened, Emma found Henry regarding her with suspicion. 

“Did she put you up to this?”

“No, Henry, I offered.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to understand that you’re really hurting her,” Emma told him, “You’ve got to stop, kid. I mean it. This isn’t funny. Regina’s doing everything she can to get you to see that she loves you, and that she would never do anything to hurt you, or anyone else.”

Henry folded his arms in defiance. “That’s just what she wants you to think.”

Emma sighed heavily. 

“Henry, enough,” she groaned, “Please, just stop with the fairytale stuff, alright? How can you accuse your mom of all these things? What evidence do you have? Huh? A book? A book of fairytales? Hate to break it to you, but that’s not evidence. Is it weird that the characters look like the folks here? Absolutely, but that still doesn’t make it true. Don’t you understand?”

“Then explain why you’re in the book!”

“I’m not in it!” Emma argued. 

For reasons she couldn’t understand, her internal lie-detector rang. She tried to brush this off, but found it to be impossible. Why would her lie-detector be going off? She wasn’t even lying! How could she be? She wasn’t in the book! That was a fact! The more she tried to dispute it, the louder the ringing became. 

“Why are you so convinced that this stuff is true? You got the book from a crazy man! A crazy man who, in case you’ve forgotten, threatened to kill you! Why would you defend this crap?”

Henry’s eyes welled with tears. “He wasn’t crazy! He just had his memories of the Enchanted Forest! He was trying to find a way back! He needed me to help him break the curse! And now he’s dead, because of the Queen!”

“Oh my God, Henry, are you hearing yourself? You seriously think that your mom had anything to do with his death? It was suicide, kid! He did it to himself! Do you realize just how crazy you sound when you say things like that? Huh? Your mom works her ass off so she can put dinner on the table and a roof over your head, and how do you repay her? You tell her how much you hate her and that she’s really some Evil Queen who destroys everything in her path! Why, Henry? Why do you hate her so much? Because a psycho told you to? Because some creep drew her in a book? That’s idiotic! It makes no sense! What has she ever done to make you act like this?”

“She killed people! Thousands! She tried to kill Snow White! She would have killed you, too, if Prince Charming hadn’t sent you through the wardrobe!”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “Do what now?”

“The Prince put you in the magic wardrobe that sent you to this world! He saved you from the Queen! He saved you because he loved you, and because he knew you would come back to save him! To save everyone! You’re the Savior, Emma! It’s up to you to break the curse and defeat the Evil—” 

“ENOUGH!” Emma shouted, “Listen to me, Henry! Please! For once, just listen! As much as I’d love to be, I’m no hero. I’m not some prophesized ‘Savior!’ I’m a sad, pathetic nobody whose parents wanted nothing to do with her once they found out she was a freak! As fucked up as that is, I can’t say I blame them! Who would ever want a kid with no legs? Who would ever want that kind of burden? I just wish they’d had the decency to take me to a hospital! They just abandoned me on the side of a road! They threw me away like trash! Like I was nothing! Sometimes I wish they’d just gotten rid of me before I was even born! It’s not like I would’ve known! They wouldn’t have had a freak for a daughter!”

“Emma! You’re not a freak!” cried Henry, “And your parents didn’t abandon you on the side of the road! That’s just where you came through!”

“Came through? Kid, what the hell are you talking about? Do you even hear yourself?”

“You came through the wardrobe! It was a portal to this world that could only take one person— you! You were gone before the Queen got you! Do you have any idea what she would’ve done to you if you hadn’t gotten away?!”

“Even if that was true, it’d be a hell of a lot better than living like this! Look at me, kid! I don’t have any legs! I have to scoot around on a skateboard like a goddamn circus monkey!”

“Why don’t you just use a wheelchair?”

“Because they make me feel guilty!”

Emma froze. She had said too much. 

Henry’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Guilty? About what?”

The blond just shook her head. “Nothing. Forget it. It’s not important,” she told him quietly, “Just do me a favor, kid. No more of this ‘Dark Curse’ crap, alright? Please? You’re not just hurting Regina. You’re driving everyone up the wall. It has to stop. I mean it, kid. Try to look at things from your mom’s perspective. If not hers, then mine, or anyone else’s.”

“She’s not my mom,” said Henry, “You are.”

“No, kid,” Emma whispered, “I’m not your mom. I might’ve given birth to you, but Regina’s the one who raised you. She’s your mother. She became your mother the second she held you in her arms. Maybe even the second she looked at you. She loves you, Henry, more than life itself. Even a blind man could see that. You mean everything to her, yet here you are, telling her she’s nothing. Telling her she’s not your mother. Telling her that all she’s done for you— that all she’ll continue to do— means absolutely nothing to you. Tell me something, kid. Has she ever done anything to hurt you? Even once? And I don’t wanna hear any more about that book, okay? Just tell me the truth. Please.”

Henry hesitated, unable to look her in the eye. He mumbled incoherently.

“What was that?”

“…No.”

“That’s what I thought. I know abuse when I see it, kid, and from what I’ve seen, your mom would never even dream of harming so much as a hair on your head. Remember that the next time you feel like shouting at her.”

\---

Regina had her head in her hands. She was hunched over her desk at work. She was overcome with guilt. She’d told Emma she needed to finish up some paperwork, but that hadn’t been the truth. Well, not the whole truth. There were only a couple of documents that required her signature, but she’d already taken care of that. She needed some time to herself. Some time to think. Time to process all this. 

She’d taken the book with her when she left, unbeknownst to Emma or Henry. It said she was the Evil Queen. It broke her, knowing her own son believed it as though it was the indisputable word of God. For reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand, she found it even more wounding to think that the woman she loved was supposed to slay her. She kept telling herself it was only a story— that it wasn’t real— but the more she thought about it, the more real it felt. The more painful it became. 

Yes, she loved Emma Swan. She’d never been one to believe in love at first sight. The concept had never made sense to her. How could you love a person you just met? It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet, as she sat there pondering the moment she laid eyes on the beautiful blonde, she found the idea more and more reasonable. Maybe what she felt when she first saw Emma wasn’t love, but she’d certainly felt something, and there was no denying that what she was feeling now was indeed love. 

Real or not, the thought that Emma— sweet, precious Emma— was destined to destroy her was a painful one. And yet, at the same time, it was Emma she needed to heal her broken heart. She sat back in her chair, closing her eyes and bringing her fingers to her lips. She could still feel Emma’s soft lips on her own. She could still taste them. It had been like tasting Ambrosia. 

She was suddenly overcome with a rush of heat between her clenching thighs. She bit her lip and clutched the arms of her chair, knowing this was neither the time nor the place to give into such desires. All she could think about was Emma. She hadn’t dreamt of Him last night. Only Emma. For years she had seen Him in her nightmares, but this time, her Knight had driven Him away. 

Unable to resist any longer, she wet two of her fingers and brought them down slowly, almost teasingly, and allowed herself this brief moment of satisfaction. She spent so much of her life working to please others. For once, she was going to focus on her own needs— her own burning desires. 

The building was empty, but even if it hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have cared how many people heard her wanton moans. She wouldn’t have cared how many people heard Emma’s name on her gasping lips as she drove herself over the edge. 

It wasn’t until she saw the wetness coating her fingers that guilt began creeping back into her mind. She swallowed apprehensively, hanging her head in shame. What had she done? She suddenly felt dirty. Had she really just pleasured herself to the thought of Emma Swan? She couldn’t help feeling violated on Emma’s behalf. What would the blonde think of her if she found out about this? She would surely call her a whore. Only whores did that sort of thing, after all. 

That was what He had told her when He’d walked in on her one evening, while she was attempting to make her bath a little steamier, and He, under the influence of an entire bottle of whiskey, decided that she was only doing such a thing because she clearly wanted Him. Once He was finished with her, she returned to the bathroom and scrubbed herself raw. Raw, just like her throat from all the screaming she had done. He, in His drunken stupor, interpreted this as pleasure.

The next morning, she had limped her way to the drug store to pick up His blood-pressure medication, as He had just run out. She’d offered Mr. Clark her best politician’s smile when given the bottle of Capoten prescribed by Doctor Whale, and she had lied through her teeth when she told the little man there had to be some mistake, as Mayor White had specifically asked for Atenolol. She still felt guilty for the way the man’s eyes had widened with fear at the mere mention of His name, but in the end, it was worth it. 

She’d dumped the Atenolol into the empty Capoten bottle while He was at work, and once she disposed of the Atenolol bottle, she poured herself a glass of wine, and she waited until He came home. She prepared His favorite meal for Him— an expensive steak, burnt to a crisp— and brought him a cold glass of water along with his medication. He hadn’t suspected a thing. 

It wasn’t long after dinner that He entered the bedroom with His head hung in what appeared to be shame. She remembered how hard it had been for her not to smirk when asking Him what was wrong. It had been an even bigger struggle not to laugh in His reddened face when He reluctantly confessed to her that He couldn’t get it up.

He never did find out what she had done. Being the man He was, He was adamant that He simply didn’t find her attractive any longer, and not that He was impotent. That wasn’t possible, He’d said. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Him. Of course not. It was her fault for not being pretty enough. She was too proud of what she’d done to let His words get to her. 

He stopped blaming her for His problem soon after, and that was when she knew that He had been seeing someone else. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She was just grateful to be free of His sickening desires. Still, she couldn’t even begin to understand why anyone would willingly fuck that Cretan. She knew that if He wasn’t the rich and powerful Mayor of Storybrooke, no one would have so much as glanced in His direction. It seemed as if His mere presence resulted in barren wombs. 

A bitter joke, yet a grim possibility.

She had always dreamed of being a mother, just so she could prove to herself— to everyone— that she was nothing like her own. She had wanted children. She still did. Just not with Him. Never with Him. 

He had been a somewhat decent man until it was revealed by Doctor Whale that He would never be a father. Not with her. She’d seen Him drink before. She’d seen Him angry. But after that fateful day at the hospital, He was almost always inebriated. That, combined with His short temper, as well as His fists, was a dangerous trifecta. The Unholy Trinity.

Her belief in God had been broken, much like her nose when He struck her for the first time. He made sure never to go for her face again, fearing for His reputation as Mayor. Her wellbeing was of no concern to Him. 

In the end, it was she who had the last bitter laugh. 

Or so she thought.


	21. Chapter 21

When Regina returned home that afternoon, she found Emma and Henry waiting for her in the living room. Emma smiled warmly at her and placed a gentle hand on Henry’s shoulder. 

“I think Henry’s got something he wants to tell you,” said the blonde.

Regina stood frozen by the door as Henry came shuffling over to her, his head hung in shame and his hands wringing behind his back. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other, unable to meet the brunette’s curious gaze.

“Henry?” she asked softly, “What is it, sweetheart?”

This got the boy to finally raise his head. He stared up at her in a mix of guilt and uncertainty. He bit his lip, not sure what to say. He and Emma had gone over this all morning, yet his mind was suddenly blank. 

“I— I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

“Henry?”

“I’m sorry for calling you the Evil Queen,” he told her. His eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. “I’m sorry for saying I didn’t love you, and that you were trying to poison me. I’m sorry for telling you that you weren’t really my mom. I’m sorry, for everything.”

Dark tears streamed down Regina’s cheeks, melding with her mascara as she knelt down before her son. This time, as she cupped his cherub face, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t stiffen when she pulled him into a tight embrace. He even returned the gesture— for real, this time— and he made no move to pull away when she kissed his forehead.

“Thank you, Henry,” she sobbed, “You have no idea how much it means to me, hearing you say that. I love you so much, my sweet boy.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, “Mom.”

\---

Ever since Henry apologized, there had been a constant gleam in Regina’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. They were lighter. Everything about her seemed lighter. She almost seemed to float when she walked. The pain in her eyes was still there, but it was greatly overshadowed by elation. She seemed like she was at peace, not just with herself, but with everything.

That night, she danced all through the kitchen as she prepared tacos, moving in time with the music blasting from the speaker next to the stove. 

‘Hey man! Oh leave me alone, you know. Hey man! Oh Henry, get off the phone! I gotta— Hey man! I gotta straighten my face! This mellow-thighed chick just put my spine out of place!’

Emma could only stare, mesmerized, as she watched the brunette twirl and swing while she cooked. This was the first time she had seen Regina dance. She hoped it wasn’t the last. When dinner was ready, Regina called everyone to the table, and it wasn’t long before Graham arrived, having already been aware that it was Taco Night, which apparently was a monthly tradition in La Casa de Mills. 

“Oh God, these tacos are amazing!” Emma declared.

Regina smiled. “Gracias, Señorita Swan. Me encantaría hacer tacos contigo.” 

She then winked, or at least, attempted to. It was clear that most, if not all, of what she had said was lost on Emma.

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Spanish.”

“Nunca preguntaste.”

Again, Emma had no idea what the brunette had just said, but there was no denying that there was no bigger turn-on than hearing Regina Mills speak Spanish. She was beyond eager to hear it again. If only she knew what it actually meant. 

“So, how long have you known Spanish?”

“All my life,” said Regina, “Daddy taught me.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s he from? Mexico?”

“Puerto Rico,” the brunette replied, with that attractive Hispanic flair.

And so, the four of them enjoyed Taco Night together, with Emma being new to the Mills family tradition, but feeling— for once in her life— that she was truly a part of something. Something beautiful. Something pure. Something that made her feel whole. 

A family. 

Maybe she had gotten her wish after all. If there truly was such a thing as magic, then this had to be it. 

\---

Graham headed home after wolfing down six tacos, and Regina went upstairs to tell Henry goodnight. She kissed his head and told him she loved him on her way out, and her heart swelled with warmth when he said it back. She couldn’t stop smiling as she made her way back downstairs and into the living room where Emma was sitting quietly on the couch. 

“Would you like to head into the Cave of Wonders, Emma?” Regina asked with a chuckle.

Emma grinned. “Of course.”

There was a comfortable silence between them when they stepped into the elevator, and long after they went to sit on the leather sofa in the basement. It was Emma who eventually broke the silence, noticing Regina’s awkward shifting.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

Regina bit her lip, hesitantly meeting the blonde’s gaze. “I have a confession to make,” she said quietly, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I feel like you should know.”

“Know what?”

“This morning, at the office, I—” 

Regina paused, hanging her head in shame. 

Emma’s brows furrowed. “Regina? What is it?”

Once more, the brunette locked eyes with her blonde companion. Her face was bright red and her voice was barely audible as she spoke, but what she said echoed endlessly in Emma’s mind.

“I may have, um— I may have— pleasured myself,” she whispered, and her voice grew even quieter, “while thinking of you.” 

To her shock, Emma didn’t get angry. She didn’t yell or curse. She didn’t call her a whore. She didn’t do any of the things He had. She was nothing like Him. Nothing at all. Instead, a slight blush crept onto the blonde’s pale cheeks, quickly followed by an uncontrollable grin.

“Oh yeah?” Emma asked, perking up. “I really have that much of an effect on you?”

Regina just blinked at her in confusion. “You’re not,” she paused, “upset?”

“Of course not. Why would I be? It’s quite the compliment, really, having such a beautiful woman think of me in that way. I gotta say, Regina, I’m flattered. Why would you think I’d be upset about it?”

Regina hesitated. “My husband,” she grimaced as she said this, as if the word itself had left a bitter taste in her mouth, “He— well— let’s just say He didn’t approve of such things.”

“He didn’t like you touching yourself? Why? What’s the harm in that?”

The brunette shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t really like to think about it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Emma assured her, “I should apologize. I seriously need to quit sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories. I’m really sorry, Regina.”

Regina’s features softened when she felt the blonde’s hand meet her own. She offered a faint but genuine smile as she gave it a light squeeze. 

“It’s alright, Emma. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

Emma was quick to mirror her smile. “I’ve always been a little too curious for my own good.”

Regina chuckled softly. “Aren’t we all?”

“Maybe so,” Emma shrugged, “Some people are just better at controlling themselves. As you can see, I’m not one of ‘em.” 

Her smile widened as she gazed into those beautiful brown eyes, those hypnotic eyes that always seemed to draw her in like a moth to a flame. She didn’t realize she was leaning closer until her forehead met Regina’s. They stared into each other’s eyes in silent wonder. Neither of them were sure who initiated the kiss, but when their lips met, their eyes slipped shut and they clung to one another in passionate desperation. 

Cursed with the need for air, they were forced to pull apart after what felt like an eternity. Once more, they locked eyes, sharing a single, staggering breath as they rejuvenated their aching lungs. 

“You don’t have to fantasize about me anymore, Regina,” Emma breathed, “I’m right here, if you want me.”

Regina’s hands were firm against the blonde’s back. “I need you,” she rasped. 

Emma gave a small nod. “I need you, too.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-explicit sexual content, among some v e r y important things.

Emma awoke to find herself caged in Regina’s arms. They were sprawled out on the sofa, which came as a surprise to Emma. She’d half-expected to fall off at some point, but seeing how tightly the brunette was clinging to her, she supposed it would have been impossible. 

She could feel Regina’s soft breath ghosting over her neck and shoulders, making her hair stand up and giving her goosebumps. It took everything she had not to shudder. She shifted carefully, doing her best not to wake Regina, but it was just moments later that the beautiful brunette began to stir.

“Morning,” Regina mumbled, stretching her arms and legs.

Her eyes remained closed, even as she planted a soft kiss on Emma’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but smile when she felt the blonde shiver. It pleased her to know she had such a potent effect on the woman. Her eyes fluttered open slowly and her lips curled into a fond smile as Emma turned to face her. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

A light blush crept onto Emma’s cheeks. “Well, I didn’t exactly do a whole lot of sleeping, but, uh, yeah.”

Regina’s smile widened into a half-smirk. She stared at the blonde through hooded eyes, kissing her gently. She hummed softly, tasting herself on Emma’s lips. 

“You were right,” she murmured, “It does taste like cinnamon.”

Emma’s blush deepened, making Regina chuckle. 

“Thank you for that, Emma,” the brunette said softly, “I hadn’t realized just how much I needed it.” She kissed the blushing blonde once more, savoring both the feeling and the flavor. “You were wonderful, by the way,” she added.

“Th-Thanks, you too,” Emma stuttered quickly.

Again, Regina chuckled, stroking the blonde’s reddened cheek with her thumb. 

“Are you embarrassed, Em-ma?” she purred.

Emma’s eyes dilated upon hearing this, and she bit her lip, flustered. A rush of heat flooded her core. She was certain that if she had thighs, they’d have been clenching. She had lost count of how many times she’d heard it last night, but there was nothing she wouldn’t give to hear Regina say her name like that again. 

“I— I just—”

She fell silent when Regina pressed a finger to her lips. 

“Shhh,” the brunette cooed, “You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

Regina moved so that she was looming over Emma, who could only stare up at her in awe. She brought her lips to the blonde’s neck, retracing the path her lipstick had left behind just hours earlier, and left a soft trail of kisses down Emma’s stomach. She paused when she reached the blonde’s navel, peering into those lovely, sea-green eyes in search of permission.

Emma gave a slow nod, arching her back as Regina’s lips reached their destination. The room around her seemed to be spinning, making her dizzy with pleasure. She thought last night had been incredible, but it didn’t hold so much as a candle to what she was experiencing now, not while she had Regina’s tongue where she needed it most. 

\---

Sometime later— neither of them were sure how long, exactly— they were spooning in contented silence. Regina was stroking Emma’s hair absentmindedly when she felt the urge to make the blonde blush again. She nipped lightly at Emma’s earlobe.

“Yours tastes like honey,” she whispered.

\---

Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen the previous night. Of course Regina was beautiful, but her body was riddled with scars, some more visible than others. They were mostly on her stomach, her hips, and her thighs, but those had been nothing compared to the ones Emma had discovered on the brunette’s back. There had to have been at least a dozen of them. Long, hideous scars, most of them overlapping. It looked as though she had been savagely whipped. 

Emma couldn’t wrap her head around it. Who had done that? More importantly, why? What reason would anyone have to beat this poor, sweet woman so viciously? It couldn’t have been her husband. Could it? Emma didn’t want to consider that possibility, but it was the only conclusion that really stuck out in her mind. No wonder Regina had been so adamant about not mentioning him. 

A wave of guilt washed over Emma. She hadn’t meant to hurt Regina by inquiring about the man, but she still felt regret. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the image of those scars out of her mind. Being as curious as she was, it was becoming more and more difficult not to say anything. 

Regina had allowed her to see those scars. It was an unspoken revelation, but the sight of them said far more than words ever could. The brunette must have wanted Emma to see them. Why else would she have exposed herself so quickly? It was all so sudden— so unexpected— like someone had gone and dumped a bucket of ice over Emma’s head. 

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for Regina.

She spent the entire day contemplating whether or not to say anything. What would she say? How would she bring it up? She didn’t want to upset Regina, but how could she go about asking without upsetting the woman? The last thing she wanted was to hurt Regina, intentionally or otherwise. She tried to pretend that everything was fine— that her mind wasn’t caught in the middle of an endless debate— but her poker face had never been that great.

Regina noticed. 

She noticed the conflicted look that had been masking Emma’s face since they left the basement. Despair swirled idly in the pit of her stomach. Had she done something wrong? Had she gone too far? Did Emma regret it? Was Emma upset with her? Did Emma not want her anymore? 

She had to know. As much as it pained her to think about, she had to know the truth.

That night, after a mostly-quiet dinner of leftover tacos (she was in no mood to cook), Regina put Henry to bed early, and again, when she told him she loved him, he readily said it back. There was no mention of hexes, curses, or Evil Queens. It was as if none of that had ever even crossed his mind. She was just grateful it was no longer leaving his lips. 

She went back downstairs, expecting to find Emma at the table, but the blonde was nowhere in sight. Although disheartened, she needed to know what was bothering Emma, so she headed down into the basement. When the elevator door opened, she found Emma lying on one of the beanbags, quietly sipping what looked like brandy.

“Emma?” she asked tentatively.

The blonde met her worried gaze with a look of uncertainty as she approached.

“Hey,” Emma said, hardly above a whisper. 

Regina’s back was ramrod straight as she took a seat on the sofa. She kept her knees together and her hands folded in her lap. The position made her seem a lot smaller. Almost submissive. 

“What’s bothering you, Emma?”

“It’s nothing.” 

Emma took another sip from her glass, unable to look the brunette in the eye. Her lie-detector was ringing in the back of her mind, but it sounded faint beneath the violent drumming of her heart.

“Emma, please, tell me the truth,” Regina rasped. Her eyes were now glistening with tears. “Did I go too far? Did I push you into having sex? I’m so sorry, Emma. Know that I would never force you to—” 

“That’s what you think?” Emma asked, gaping at her in utter shock. “You think you pushed me into it? That I regret it? Regina, no.” 

She set the glass down gently and pulled herself towards the brunette, taking the woman’s hands in her own. She stared up into Regina’s eyes with remorse.

“No,” she said again, much more softly, “You didn’t push me into anything. I wanted it as much as you did, and I don’t regret it. I promise.”

“Then why have you been so distant?”

“Oh God, Regina, I’m sorry,” Emma said, cursing herself internally, “I didn’t mean to make you think all that. It’s just— well— I can’t stop thinking about those scars on your back. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to offend you. I just couldn’t get them off my mind. I am so, so sorry for making you think I didn’t want you. I don’t just want you, Regina. I need you. I know that probably sounds crazy, but it’s the—” 

She was cut off when Regina pressed a finger to her lips once again.

“I let you see them, Emma, because they’re a part of me. I wanted you to see me. Really see me. All of me. I’ve never shown them to anyone else. No one else knows about them. Not even Henry or Graham. They’re my darkest secret.”

She cupped Emma’s face gently with one hand. 

“I let you see them, because I trust you, Emma. I trust you. I need you.” 

She brought her other hand to the blonde’s angelic face. Tears were now streaming down her olive cheeks.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” she murmured.

Emma stared up at Regina with watery, green eyes. “I love you, too,” she said, sobbing openly. 

Then, without warning, the brunette’s lips collided with hers in a passionate kiss. The second they did, something happened. Something impossible. Something that defied reality. What it was, Emma had no idea. All she knew was that she was flung back by a powerful blast of— God knows what— and the moment her head struck the wall, everything went black.


	23. Chapter 23

Emma groaned as she came to, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the throbbing pain. Her eyes slowly blinked open. She expected to find Regina standing there, but she didn’t. Regina was nowhere in sight. Instead, she found herself staring up at Graham. Something about him seemed off. His eyes were completely void of that joyful gleam she had become so familiar with. He studied her with an unreadable expression. 

“Graham,” she uttered, “What the hell just happened? Where’s Regina? Is she okay?”

At this, the Sheriff’s eyes grew colder, narrowing at the mere mention of the brunette’s name. He snarled, baring his teeth in a mix of anger and disgust, and Emma found that she preferred his mask of stoicism. He almost looked like a beast. A savage. Something not entirely human.

Emma frowned in confusion. “Uh, Graham?”

“Not my name,” he spat.

Emma was visibly taken aback. “Oh. Okay, then,” she said awkwardly, “What am I supposed to call you? Sheriff Humbert?”

“She calls me ‘Huntsman.’”

“Who does?”

“Queen.”

“The Qu— oh Jesus, Graham, not you, too! I just got Henry to cut the bullshit! I don’t need you making it—”

“Hold tongue, or see it cut from mouth!” the man snapped.

Emma stared up at him in shock. She was trembling. She tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She felt afraid. Why did she feel afraid? It was just Graham, playing a cruel prank. Right? Her lie-detector was ringing. Her eyes grew wider. 

‘Oh no. No. No, no, no! Not now! This isn’t real! None of this is real! You’re dreaming, Swan! It’s just a bad dream! It’s a really bad dream! A stupid fucking dream!’

The alarm in her head grew louder and louder, until it was all she could hear. She squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth, slamming her hands over her ears. It did nothing to drown out that god-awful ringing. Her eyes flew open when she heard something slam down onto the floor in front of her. It was the book. It was turned to the page featuring the feral Huntsman. His face was identical to Graham’s, not just in appearance, but in the emotionless mask he wore.

“‘Huntsman,’” he said again, “is what She calls me.”

Emma glanced between him and the book in disbelief. “This can’t be happening. This is insane! It’s just a stupid book! It isn’t real!”

“No!” the Huntsman shouted, “Only this is real! Rest is fantasy!”

“No, no, no, that can’t be right! You can’t really be the Huntsman! Regina can’t be the—”

“Do NOT speak Her name!” the man roared, “Will poison one’s tongue!”

“What? What the hell are you saying?!”

“She is Queen. Evil Queen. Her name is a curse. Must never be spoken.”

“What the hell happened to you, Graham? Last night you were happily shoving tacos down your gullet! Now look at you! You’re just as insane as that Jefferson guy!”

“Enough! I am ‘Huntsman.’ Only Huntsman. ‘Graham’ is gone. Was never really here.”

He turned away from her and started heading back towards the elevator, but Emma lunged forward and grabbed onto his leg. He growled— yes, growled— at her and kicked her hand away as if in disgust. 

“Wait! Graham, please!”

The Huntsman spun around in anger. “There is no Graham! Are you deaf, woman?”

“Please, whoever you are, just tell me what the hell is going on!”

“You broke the curse!” came a voice.

Both Emma and the Huntsman looked to the elevator to see Henry standing there, staring at them in wonder. 

“W-What?! You mean it’s actually— real?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time! And you kept telling me how crazy it was!”

“It is crazy!” Emma argued, “Did you really think you’d get me to believe this crap?!”

“I had to try! I did everything I could! If the Hatter was here, he would know what to do!” 

Henry turned his attention to the man formerly known as Graham Humbert. They may have looked identical, but this man was nothing like the kind, pancake-loving Sheriff he had spoken to just hours earlier.

“You really are the Huntsman, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

The Huntsman offered a small nod.

“And you don’t have your heart, do you?”

“No.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” said the Huntsman. 

He promptly pulled a knife from his boot and began etching a strange symbol into the wall. The crude carving was of what looked like antlers.

“Know this crest, boy?” 

“Yeah! That’s the symbol on the mausoleum!”

“Take me there?”

“Yeah, come on!”

The Huntsman pulled his knife from the wall and walked briskly towards the enchanted floating box. 

“Wait!” cried Emma, “I have to go with you! I need to find Regina!”

This earned her a dangerous glare from the Huntsman, but she was far too distraught to notice, much less give a damn. 

“Leave her,” said the Huntsman, “Will slow us down.”

“No!” Henry argued, “She’s the Savior! We need her!”

The Huntsman clearly didn’t like this idea, but he remained bitterly silent as he and the boy waited for the Savior to reach them. Only when they were going back up in the enchanted box did he open his mouth.

“Will find Queen,” he declared, “Will take back heart, carve Hers from Her breast as She wished upon Snow White.”

“What?! No!” cried Emma, “I’m not gonna let you kill Regina! She’s your friend! And Henry, she’s your mom! Also, I lo—”

“She is not friend. She is enemy,” the Huntsman said coldly, “and She is weak. No magic. Without magic, She is nothing.”

“Henry! Why aren’t you saying anything?! You can’t seriously agree with this, can you?! This is your mom he’s talking about! Do you really want her to die?!”

“But she’s not my mom anymore,” said Henry, “She was, but then you broke the curse! She really is the Evil Queen now, and we have to defeat her.”

“Why kill her?! Damn it, Henry, Queen or not, she’s still your mother! She loves you! How can you even consider killing her?! Don’t you realize how fucked up that is?! If it was me in her place, would you want me to die? Huh?!”

Henry frowned. “No! But—” 

“No ‘buts,’ kid! Promise me you won’t kill her!” When the boy hesitated, Emma grabbed his shoulders. She was in tears. “Promise me!”

“I promise!” shouted Henry.

The elevator door slid open, and the Huntsman couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He was gripping his knife as if it was the only thing anchoring him to this world. A dangerous look overshadowed his face as he stormed towards the front door. Emma and Henry followed him as quickly as they could. 

Soon, they were all in the cruiser. The Huntsman seemed confused, even as he started the car and took off down the street. It was as if he had never seen a car before. If the book really was true, then he likely hadn’t, but his memories of being the Sheriff were still very much intact. 

As they sped off towards the cemetery, Emma gazed out the window in utter disbelief. Everyone was just sort of standing around, not saying a word. It was like they were waiting for something. 

Or for someone.

\---

It didn’t take them long to reach the mausoleum, not when the Huntsman was speeding through the streets. The second he parked the car, he and Henry jumped out and started rushing towards the vault. 

“Hey, wait!”

The two of them paused. The Huntsman narrowed his eyes at the blonde in frustration, while Henry stared at her in uncertainty. He looked up tentatively at the wolfish man.

“Will you help her?” he asked, “Please? You helped her mother. Can’t you do the same for her?”

The Huntsman’s face softened at this. He handed his knife to Henry. “Hold this, boy. Be still.” He moved quickly towards Emma, hoisting her easily onto his back. “Hold tight,” he told her. 

Henry handed the knife back to the Huntsman, and the three of them headed into the mausoleum. The door was wide open. Inside was a casket labeled ‘Henry Mills,’ though it had been pushed across the floor, revealing a hidden stairwell leading into a dark abyss. 

“Whoa! I didn’t know she had a secret lair!”

“Lower voice,” the Huntsman said gruffly.

Henry grimaced. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Walk slow. Eyes open.”

“Why are you talking like that?” whispered Emma.

“What?”

“You sound like you don’t know much English.”

“Raised by wolves,” the Huntsman said simply, “Speak very little.”

They were silent as they made their way down the stairs and into a dark corridor, lit only by the dim glow from the door at the end of the narrow hallway. It was slightly ajar. When they reached the door, the three of them peered through the crack. Seeing no one there, they slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside with caution. 

The Huntsman set Emma down carefully, unable to hold her up any longer. He let his shoulders pop as he scanned the place. Even he, the big bad wolf-man, seemed on-edge. It might have been claustrophobia. Maybe it was the cobwebs, or perhaps the muggy air and its effect on his lungs. That didn’t appear to bother him, though. What seemed to unnerve him the most was likely the sinister vibe emanating from the cobweb-riddled walls.

“Search,” he said, “Find Queen.”

He looked down at Emma when he felt her tug on his sleeve. Once more, his face was unreadable.

“Speak, Savior.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t kill her.”

“Evil Queen must die.”

Tears streaked Emma’s face. “Please,” she begged, “I love her. I just found her. Please don’t take her away from me.”

The Huntsman frowned as he contemplated this. “You love Queen? Evil Queen?”

“She’s not evil,” Emma protested, “She can’t be. I— I know her! She’s just broken, is all, but her heart is good!”

“No. Heart is black. You know Mayor. You do not know Queen.”

“I know her, Graham,” Emma said firmly, “All of her.”

The Huntsman’s eyes widened in what looked like horror. He backed away from her as if she was carrying some deadly virus. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You, Savior. Broke curse with kiss.”

“Apparently so, yeah.”

“Kissed Evil Queen?”

Now it was Emma who frowned. “No. I kissed Regina Mills. I kissed the woman I love. Not some one-dimensional villain from a creepy book.”

The Huntsman shook his head as if pulled from a trance. He stormed past Emma and into the adjoining room with a huff. He looked around warily, but there was no sign of Regina. 

“Evil Queen!” he roared, “Why hide? Coward! Come! Face the Huntsman!”

Anything else he might have said was cut off when he cried out in pain, clutching desperately at his chest.

“Graham! Err, Huntsman! Whatever! Are you okay? Do you have your inhaler?”

“Not lungs!” he shouted, “Heart!”

“Since when have you had heart problems?!”

“No! Evil Queen has,” he groaned, “my heart!”

“What?”

“Uses heart to make me obey! Controls me!”

“Fight it! You’ve got to fight!”

“Cannot! Too powerful!”

“Come on, Graham! Or whoever the hell you are! I believe in you!”

The Huntsman’s eyes glossed over, and when he spoke, it was not in his voice. It was Regina’s. Emma had no idea how that was possible, and yet, somehow— in some way— it was.

“Apologies, Emma, but I am afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

The color drained from Emma’s face. “Regina?” she whispered.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.”

“Where are you, Regina? I don’t understand. Why did you run? How are you doing this? Why is Graham acting like someone else? Tell me it’s not true. Tell me there isn’t really a curse. Tell me this is all one big practical joke. Tell me something! Anything! Please, Regina, just tell me what the hell is going on!”

“I can’t let you see me like this, Emma. I’m sorry.”

“Like what?! What does that mean?!”

Regina’s voice left the Huntsman’s lips in a whisper. “Forgive me, my Knight. There is far too much you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand! Stop whatever it is you’re doing to Graham! Let me see you! I have to see you! Please, Regina! I love you!”

“No, Emma,” came the voice, “You love the Mayor. I’m the Queen. The Evil Queen. Nobody could ever love me.”

“Yeah, well if that’s true, then I guess I’m Nobody!” Emma sobbed, “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I’m going to find out! I’m gonna find out, even if I die trying, because I love you, Regina Mills! I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before! I let you in! Just like you let me in! You told me you trusted me! You told me you loved me, and— and it was real! Please! Just let me see you! That’s all I want!”

There was a pause.

Regina’s voice came out even softer. “I’m sorry, Emma. It’s too soon. You know where to go, Huntsman. Keep her and Henry safe. No one gets in or out.”

The Huntsman’s eyes came back into focus. “Yes, Majesty,” he groaned. His voice was now his own.

Before Emma had time to react, the Huntsman was hoisting her up over his shoulder as though she was a sack of flour. She screamed and cried, demanding that he put her down as she struck his back with her fists again and again. No matter how hard she hit him, he wouldn’t let go. He had an iron grip on Henry’s wrist, essentially dragging the struggling boy back upstairs and out to the cruiser, where he all but threw the two of them into the backseat, separated by a steel partition. They tried to escape, but the doors were locked, and neither of them were strong enough to bust out the windows.

The Huntsman drove in silence, even as Emma and Henry screamed at him in anger and confusion. Much to their bewilderment, he drove right past the mansion.

“Where the fuck are you taking us, Huntsman?!” shouted Emma.

“Station,” the man said simply, “Cells underground. Safe there. House not safe.”

“Why? Why isn’t the house safe?”

“Curse broken. Queen hiding. Everyone angry. Want Her dead.”

“Oh fuck,” Emma whispered, “You’re telling me this is my fault? The curse broke because of me? People want to kill her because of me?”

“You are Savior,” said the Huntsman, “Set us free. Hero.”

“No! That’s bullshit! I’m not some ‘Savior!’ And if I was, I wouldn’t have set you free just so you can murder the woman I love!”

Henry gaped at her. “You love my mom?”

“Yeah, kid, I do. I really, really do,” said Emma, “and I can’t just sit around doing nothing while people are out to kill her! Let me out, Huntsman! Keep Henry safe, just let me out of here! I need to see her!”

“Queen has heart,” the Huntsman told her, “Must obey.”

Emma screamed in anger and despair, and the second she did, powerful beams of blinding, golden light came blasting out of her hands and directly into the Huntsman, effectively knocking him unconscious and simultaneously melting a gaping hole in the steel partition. She had no idea what the hell had just happened, or how, but she was grateful for it, nonetheless.

Fortunately, Emma was able to reach through the hole and press the button on the driver’s-side door. The back doors unlocked and she and Henry scrambled out. Emma threw open the door and pulled the Huntsman out as carefully as she could. She and Henry drug him onto the sidewalk, safely out of the street. She then swiped the cuffs from the unconscious man’s belt and cuffed his wrist to a nearby bench. 

“Sorry, pal.”

“What are you gonna do now?” asked Henry.

Emma’s eyes burned with determination. “I’m gonna save Regina.”


	24. Chapter 24

Emma worked quickly to unhitch the U-Haul from her car, which was still packed with most of her belongings. She hadn’t gotten around to bringing it inside, but she knew that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was saving the woman she loved from the bloodthirsty mob roaming the streets. It was the middle of the night and the moon was full, casting the world in a haunting blue glow. 

Emma had ordered Henry to stay in the basement beneath the police station, trusting Regina’s judgement. He’d protested at first, but she convinced him it was the safest place for him at the moment, promising she would come back for him before locking the door. 

She was currently speeding towards the cemetery with her headlights off, taking the long way around so that she could avoid as many pedestrians as possible. None of them seemed to really notice her. They were far too busy storming the town, clearly in search of Regina. When she’d gotten to the mansion, Emma found the front door kicked in and nearly all of the windows smashed, but the place had been deserted, likely after the angry citizens realized the so-called Evil Queen wasn’t home.

When she finally reached the cemetery, Emma hobbled towards the mausoleum as quickly as she could. She entered silently, closing the door behind her and staring down into the dark stairwell with uncertainty. Stairs had never been too kind to her, but she knew she was going to have to toughen up. There were far more important things to worry about.

She went down backwards, feeling her way through the darkness with her hands and balancing on each step with the nubs where her legs should have been. She counted fifteen steps in her head. When she made it to the bottom, she cursed inwardly, having forgotten her skateboard, but it was too late now. She pulled herself through the dark hallway and towards the dim light at the end. She thought she heard something, but it was overshadowed by the violent pounding in her chest. 

The closer she got to the door, however, the clearer the sound became. Sobbing. Hard, heavy, uncontrollable sobbing. Emma’s heart clenched as she heard this. She was overcome with immense guilt. She knew it wasn’t her fault, as she couldn’t possibly have known the curse was actually real, but she still felt she was to blame for all this chaos. More specifically, Regina’s inconsolable tears.

Emma peered through the crack in the door and caught a glimpse of the brunette, sitting with her legs tucked under her and what looked like a picture hugged tightly to her heaving chest. Her shoulders shook almost violently as she wept. Her head was hung in shame. She must have heard the quiet gasp that escaped Emma, for she stiffened and immediately turned her head towards the door. 

Emma darted backwards, slamming her hands over her mouth and pressing her back to the wall, as if that would somehow render her invisible. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the click of heels growing louder— closer— and within seconds, the door was wide open. 

Regina gasped. “Emma! What— where’s the Huntsman? Where’s Henry? Is he safe? Please, tell me he’s safe!”

Emma reluctantly opened her eyes, peering up at the brunette with uncertainty. “Yeah, he’s safe,” she whispered.

“Why did you come back here? More importantly, how did you escape the Huntsman?”

“I had to make sure you were safe, too! People are out there rioting! They already sacked the mansion, looking for you, I assume!”

“As I suspected,” Regina said quietly, “Now, tell me, how did you get away from the Huntsman?”

Emma shook her head. “I—I don’t know! Something happened when he was driving us to the station. I got angry and— and— some kind of light shot out of my hands and knocked him out! What the hell was that, Regina?! What is any of this?! You can’t really be a Queen! Certainly not an evil one! I’m confused, Regina! I—I’m afraid!”

Tears began streaming down her cheeks and she hung her head, unable to meet Regina’s remorseful gaze. Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt the brunette lift her chin, ever so gently, forcing their eyes to meet yet again. Regina was now kneeling before her, studying her face carefully.

“You shouldn’t have come back here. It isn’t safe. You could get hurt, Emma, and I can’t have that.”

“Well I can’t let you get hurt, either! I love you!”

Regina’s hand moved from the blonde’s chin to her tear-stained cheek, caressing it softly. 

“And I you,” she murmured.

Emma clasped both her hands around Regina’s, giving it a tight squeeze as if never intending to let go. She didn’t bother holding back her tears. 

“Then don’t push me away,” she rasped, “Please. Help me understand. All I want is the truth, no matter how crazy it is. Was there really a curse? Did I break it? Is this happening because of me?”

“We broke it, Emma,” said the brunette, “with True Love’s Kiss.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “True Love— you mean we’re,” she paused, “soul mates?”

“Something like that. Here, come into the light. Let me look at you while I still can.”

Emma stared up at Regina with watery eyes as she pulled herself through the door. The brunette shut it behind her, quietly locking it. She looked around at all the macabre décor, having not gotten the chance to really notice it before. She turned back to face the brunette, whom she now realized was holding a framed picture of herself and a much younger Henry, both of them smiling happily. Regina seemed to notice where she was staring and held up the picture.

“Graham took this on Henry’s fifth birthday,” Regina said softly.

A small smile graced Emma’s lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Must’ve been nice.”

Once more, Regina knelt down in front of the conflicted blonde. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Emma.”

A laugh escaped the blonde’s lips, but there was no joy in it. “I’d have a much easier time telling you what isn’t on my mind,” she said, “What is this, Regina? Is there really a Dark Curse? And did you know about it this whole time? I thought you were just as skeptical of it as I was! I thought Henry was just being delusional, especially with the things he said to you! I felt sorry for you! Hell, I still do! I just— I don’t know what to believe!”

She ran her hands through her hair, visibly stressed.

“First we kiss, and I get knocked out by some kind of explosion. Then, when I wake up, I find Graham— who, apparently, isn’t Graham anymore— acting like a fucking wildman, and then I have to force Henry to promise me he won’t kill you, because that’s something that actually crossed his mind! And now I find out you really are a Queen, and that I can apparently shoot fucking lasers out of my hands! Explain that to me! Have you— have you been lying to me this whole time?”

“No, Emma,” rasped the brunette, “I— she— never lied to you. I was under the curse like everyone else. I just didn’t know it.”

“So none of that was real? Do I really know you?”

“Yes, it was real, Emma, as are my feelings for you. What you saw in the Mayor was a reflection of me— the real me— minus some of the darker elements. Up until a few hours ago, I was the Mayor of Storybrooke. Now I’m the Queen. The Evil Queen.”

“You can’t be evil,” Emma argued, “I know you! You’re kind! You’re kind and sweet and generous, and you—”

The brunette pressed a finger to her lips.

“I’ve done terrible things, Emma,” Regina murmured, “Things I can never atone for. If you knew even half of them, you wouldn’t be so quick to defend me. Henry was right. The book was right. I am a monster. I am the Evil Queen, and you, Emma— sweet Emma— are the Savior, destined to destroy me.”

“That’s bullshit! Fuck destiny! I’m not some Savior! And I’m sure as hell not about to kill you! Let’s say for a moment that I really am the Savior. If I’m supposed to save everyone, then doesn’t that mean I need to save you, too? Because right now, that’s all I want. You told me I was your Knight. At least let me attempt to play the part. Don’t push me away, Regina. Mayor, Queen, whatever you are, I love you, and I know you love me, too. No one’s ever loved me before. Not like you have. You’ve given me what I’ve always wanted. A home. A family. You’ve given me love. You’ve given me happiness. You’ve treated me like I was a person— a normal, fully-functioning, flesh-and-blood human being— and not some sideshow attraction. You’ve seen me for who I really am. Please, Regina. Let me do the same. You say I don’t know the real you. Will you show me? Please?”

Regina cupped her face gently, as though she was the most fragile of porcelain. She stared into the brunette’s eyes for any sign of deception, but found none as the woman spoke.

“I’ve been someone else for almost thirty years now,” said Regina, “It’s going to be difficult, trying to readjust, especially with everyone wanting me dead, but I will do my best. For you, Emma, know that I would do anything.”

There was pain in her eyes, far worse than Emma had ever seen. She spoke of a naïve girl, just shy of her eighteenth birthday, whose heart belonged to a handsome stable boy. She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. Not yet. The memory was still fresh in her restored mind. She relayed the tragedy of the stable boy’s murder at the ruthless hand of her own mother, of whom she was immensely afraid. Her pain melded with anger when she began detailing the reason for the young man’s merciless death.

“He was killed because She couldn’t keep a secret,” she seethed.

Emma frowned in confusion. “Who? Your mother?”

“No,” Regina said quietly, “Yours.”

Tense silence fell between them as Emma contemplated all this. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for Regina to fall in love with her, the daughter of her sworn enemy. Snow White no longer seemed like such an admirable character in Emma’s mind. On the contrary, she seemed like a massive bitch. However, before Emma could even think to vent her feelings to Regina, the door slammed open, cracking and splintering as it was violently kicked in.

Both women gasped, and Emma all but threw herself in front of Regina as the Huntsman stormed into the room (Lord knows how he escaped), followed quickly by a tired-looking man and a petite woman with a pixie cut. The short-haired woman looked oddly familiar. The more Emma studied her face, the clearer it became. She had virtually the same nose, the same round, pale face, and most shockingly, the same sea-green eyes. It was almost like looking into a mirror. The woman’s eyes burned with a searing hatred. In her hands were a bow and arrow, tightly drawn and fully-prepared to fire.

Emma’s eyes grew wide with awe. “Regina, is that…?”

Regina took a slow, deep breath, grimacing. “Snow White,” she whispered.


	25. Chapter 25

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Snow White? This woman was Snow fucking White? As in, her— mother? She locked eyes with the short-haired woman, beyond shocked by their similarities. This, in addition to the feeling of Regina’s arms snaking around her midriff, left her speechless.

“I don’t know who you are, but unless you have a death wish, you’re going to have to move,” Snow White said harshly.

Emma was visibly taken aback by this, having not expected such a thing from Snow White, of all people. Clearly, the Disney version was horribly mistaken in its interpretation of the woman, who now stood before her, threatening her life. She didn’t want to believe it, but when Regina had told her that her mother was in fact, Snow White, she hadn’t heard any alarm bells going off in her head.

“I’m not gonna let you hurt her!” 

Snow’s eyes narrowed. She started to say something, but the blonde-haired man placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Snow,” he uttered, clearly in shock, “Look at her.”

“I am looking at her!” Snow spat, “She’s defending the Queen!”

“No!” the man snapped, “I mean look at her! Really look at her! Don’t you recognize her?”

Snow scoffed as she turned back towards the blonde stranger. 

“What? I don’t—” 

She froze. Her eyes widened when she realized that the woman did, in fact, look familiar. Perhaps this stranger wasn’t quite a stranger, after all. Snow felt as though she’d been robbed of breath. 

“Gods above,” she whispered. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she reluctantly lowered her bow. “Is that…?”

The Huntsman gave a small nod. “Savior,” he grunted.

“…Emma? Is that,” Snow hesitated, “really you?”

Emma just stared back in disbelief, growing increasingly-overwhelmed as she glanced between Snow and the blonde man, whom she now recognized as the man from the book who had placed her in the enchanted wardrobe. Prince Charming. Her father was Prince goddamn Charming. She tried to say something— anything— but the words never came. It was Snow who spoke instead.

“By the Gods, it is you. You saved us! You broke the—” 

Snow paused as a wave of dread washed over her, filling her lungs and stealing her breath. She glanced from Emma’s familiar green eyes to the dark orbs peering out from behind her blonde tresses. Once more, Snow raised her bow, fuming with anger and pain.

“You broke the Queen’s curse,” she said darkly, “Get away from her, Emma! You don’t know what she’s done!”

Emma’s brows came together in a scowl. “Maybe not, but I know what you did,” she shot back, “and I’m not gonna let you hurt her anymore!”

Snow gasped. “Emma, what— why are you defending the Evil Queen?! She’s your enemy! She’s dangerous!”

“No! She may be your enemy, but she’s not mine! I love her! And I’ve never felt safer with anyone else!”

“You have to trust me, Emma, I—”

“Have a fucking arrow aimed at my face!” Emma shouted, “Put that thing down! Now!”

“But, Emma—”

“Now, damn it!”

Snow slowly lowered her bow, staring at Emma in shock and disbelief. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, “How can you say you love her? She’s the Evil Queen!”

“I don’t see her that way. When I look at her, I don’t see some cartoon villain! I don’t see the Evil Queen! All I see is Regina, and that’s all I want. She’s all I want.”

“But— but she’s a woman!”

Emma’s frown deepened. “Yeah, no shit!” 

“Women aren’t supposed to love each other that way!”

“That might be how it is where you come from, but this is America, lady! I can love whoever the hell I want! And if she’s open to it, maybe I can even put a ring on her finger someday!”

Silence fell over the five of them. 

Regina’s breath hitched in her throat and her arms tightened around her blonde lover. Her eyes were once again wet with tears. 

“Emma,” she rasped. 

She couldn’t find the right words. She was in shock. Had Emma just implied she wanted to marry her? Her heart was racing like her prized steed, swelling with a perplexing blend of joy and fear. When she was the Mayor, she had promised herself she would never get married again, feeling there was no one out there for her to share her life with, but then Emma Swan came rolling up on that skateboard of hers, and everything changed. Now, she was the Queen again, and she was being shielded by her beloved Knight. The Savior. Her Savior.

“Emma, you don’t mean that! You can’t mean that! She must have you under some kind of spell!”

“Controlling her with heart,” said the Huntsman, “Making her obey.”

“No!” Emma snapped, “I’m not under a spell! And yes, she does have my heart, but not in the literal sense! She has my heart because she won it, just like I did with hers.”

“You’re just confused, Emma,” Snow insisted, “You’ve got to trust me! I’m your—” 

“What? My mother? That may be, but I have no reason to trust you, lady. Not when you’re here threatening the woman I love and trying to justify it!”

“If it wasn’t for her, we never would have sent you away!”

“Bullshit! You didn’t have to do any of that! You could have kept me! Loved me! But instead, you put me in a fucking box and shipped me off to the States! Why? So I could save you? So I could break this stupid curse? If you really believed in me, you never would’ve sent me away! You might’ve sent me away to save your sorry asses, but don’t even bother pretending it had nothing to do with me being a freak!”

Snow’s eyes were full of pain and guilt. “Emma, how can you say something like that?! Of course that isn’t why we sent you away! And you are not a ‘freak!’”

Just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the alarms started blaring in Emma’s mind, and she now felt as though someone had, in fact, torn her heart out. But that someone was not the woman perched behind her. She grit her teeth so hard she thought they might shatter. Her face grew red with anger. Her fists tightened, and her nails dug so deeply into her sweaty palms that they pierced the skin. 

Snow stepped towards her. “Emma, honey, what’s—” 

A scream of anguish tore from Emma’s throat and she threw her hands out in an attempt to stop the woman from coming any closer, but as she did, white, hot bursts of energy came shooting out from her bleeding hands. She panicked, having not expected it to happen again, and tried to stop it, but her efforts were in vain. The second the beams hit their unwanted visitors, the three collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Only then did the energy dissipate.

Emma’s mind suddenly became hazy. Her arms fell to her sides and she slumped forward, feeling drained. Her face would have become well-acquainted with the concrete had Regina not been holding her up. The brunette shook her gently. 

“Emma? Emma, my love, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

A quiet whimper escaped Emma’s lips before she slipped into unconsciousness, limp in her lover’s arms. Regina shook her again in an attempt to get her to respond, but she was already out cold. 

Regina set Emma down carefully before grabbing the picture from the floor and the small wooden box from the nearby table, along with the Huntsman’s belt, quickly fastening it around her waist. She then kicked off her heels, as they would only slow her down. She struggled to lift Emma, but once she had the blonde over her shoulder, she raced past the unconscious trio, down the narrow corridor, and up the steps, only to come face to face with a vicious, snarling wolf with a single red eye. 

She promptly aimed the Huntsman’s gun at the creature. “I don’t want to hurt you, you beautiful beast,” she whispered, “but by the Gods, I will if I have to.”

The wolf backed away as if it understood, but it continued to growl as it watched her move towards the yellow Volkswagen with the gun still aimed at its snarling face. Regina carefully put Emma down in the backseat before climbing into the driver’s seat and immediately locking the doors. The key was still in the ignition. She started the engine, which seemed to frighten the wolf, as it was darting down into the vault. She uttered a quiet curse, not wanting some wild animal running amok in such a sacred place, but quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind, as there were far more important things to worry about right then.

Like how to drive a car with no pedals.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update!!

Emma stirred with a groan. Her eyes slowly blinked open when she felt a warm hand cupping her cheek. She found Regina looking at her with tearful, worried eyes. 

“R— Regina?” she mumbled, still in a daze.

“Yes, I’m here, my love.”

“Where are we?” 

“Jefferson’s mansion.”

“We have to go back for Henry,” Emma rasped, “I left him in the basement at the—” 

Regina pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s alright, Emma. I got him out of there. He’s shaken, but unharmed.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s right here, darling. Henry, sweetheart, come over here.”

“Is she awake?”

“Yes, dear.”

The boy was at her side in a heartbeat, still wary of the Queen, but far more worried about the chaos he had witnessed in the streets, and grateful to know that Emma wasn’t under a sleeping curse like he’d suspected. He was even more grateful to know he hadn’t been lied to. At least, not yet. She was called the Evil Queen for a reason. She may have raised him, but if it was true that she was affected by the curse as she had claimed, then he didn’t know the real Regina. He had no idea what she was capable of.

“Hi, Emma.”

Emma offered him a faint smile. “Hey kid,” she rasped, still feeling weak.

Regina seemed to sense this and brought her hand from the blonde’s cheek to her forehead. She let out a quiet gasp. 

“Emma, you’re burning up! Henry, will you head to the kitchen and get me a damp rag, please?”

“Okay.”

The boy moved quickly but quietly up the stairs and towards the kitchen, making sure the coast was clear before leaving the basement. He got a small towel and held it under the cool water from the faucet, wringing it out a bit so it wouldn’t drip too much, and moved back through the dark hallway to the basement. Once inside, he quietly closed the door and locked it before continuing down the stairs. He was halfway down when he heard the Queen’s voice.

She was speaking softly to Emma, so he only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but even though her words were not directed at him, he still felt affected by them.

“You’re going to be alright, my love. I promise.”

A soft whimper left Emma’s lips yet again. “It hurts, Regina. It hurts so damn much.”

“I know, darling, I know,” the brunette murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Emma began to sob openly. “She was lying, Regina. She told me that not having legs had nothing to do with why she sent me away. She looked me in the eye and she fucking lied to me. My own mother! I always felt like that was the reason my parents abandoned me. It hurt, but it never hurt as badly as this! Now I think I was better off not knowing. I guess ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“It would seem so,” Regina said quietly, “but don’t worry, my love. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

“I feel so pathetic. I’m supposed to be your Knight. Your Savior. I’m the one who should be protecting you, but I don’t have any legs, and now I can barely move! What good am I to you like this? To anyone?”

“Shhh,” Regina cooed, “You aren’t pathetic, Emma. You have protected me. You used yourself as a shield to defend me from your own mother and father. You stood up for me, and for what you believed in. That takes real courage, you know, and for the record, when a Knight cannot protect the Queen, it is up to the Queen to protect her Knight.”

“You sure you’re a Queen? You sound more like a poet.”

Regina chuckled softly. 

“It’s funny you should mention that,” she said, “I always dreamed of being one when I was a girl. Daddy would often write poetry when Mother wasn’t around. He inspired me to do the same. I would have traversed the realms, reciting poems— his and mine— but that dream died with my first love.”

Misery dripped from her eyes. 

“His name was Daniel,” she whispered.

They didn’t speak much after that.

\---

Having given the damp towel to Emma, Henry crept back upstairs to give them some privacy and wandered reluctantly into the tearoom. He couldn’t understand why Jefferson had done what he did. He supposed that everyone had been right about the man. Cursed or not, the Hatter was indeed mad. 

Henry squinted to see in the darkness, not wishing to draw attention by flipping on the light. He looked to the table as his eyes adjusted, expecting to find the dead man’s magic hat, as it had been sitting there when Jefferson held a knife to his throat. His eyes grew wide. His stomach dropped.

The hat was missing. 

\---

Henry came rushing back down into the basement in a panic. He heard a groan, believing it to be one of pain, most likely from Emma.

“Mom! Jefferson’s hat! It’s—”

He froze at the bottom of the stairs, finding the two women staring at him like two deer in the headlights. Their hands were tangled in each other’s hair, and the Queen’s lips were at the base of Emma’s throat. 

“— gone.”


	27. Chapter 27

Emma scratched her head awkwardly as she made her way over to Henry, resting her hand on his shoulder as if to reassure him. 

“Sorry, kid,” she said, “Didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Henry’s face grew even redder. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, not while she still had the Queen’s lipstick all over her face and neck. It was just as red as his cheeks.

“We just got a little carried away, is all.”

“A little?”

A soft chuckle escaped the blonde’s lips, which were stained crimson, as well.

“Good point.”

“Is she a vampire?” Henry asked suddenly.

The question caught Emma off-guard. “What? No. Why?”

“It looked like she was biting you.”

Now it was Emma who blushed, though it was hard to tell with the red lipstick all over her face. 

“Yeah, well, uh,” she paused. Henry was now looking at her expectantly. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Oh, I think Regina’s calling for me.”

Henry frowned. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“That’s because you weren’t listening.”

“What? I—”

Emma was already shuffling back across the room as quickly as she could. She found Regina sitting on the small cot in the corner, blushing profusely. The brunette regarded her with a tight smile. It was evident that she was equally as embarrassed as the rest of them.

“Hey,” Emma said softly, “How are you holding up?”

“I can’t help feeling ashamed,” Regina confessed, “I never meant for anyone to see that, least of all Henry. I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m supposed to be able to control myself, but when I’m with you, I just— it’s like you’re my drug, and I’m addicted. I’m addicted and I can’t seem to stop.”

Emma squeezed her hand gently, offering a soft smile. “Who says you have to?”

“I—”

Regina paused as she considered this. 

“I’ve never really had a choice in anything before. Mother never allowed me to wear my hair down. It always had to be braided or piled onto my head like a beehive. I didn’t mind dresses, but I never did like the ones Mother picked out for me. She always chose what I wore, what I ate— and how much— and how I spent my time. The only reason I was allowed to ride horses was because Daddy somehow convinced her to let me. I still don’t know how he did it. Once Mother’s mind was made up, there was no room for argument. I promised myself I would never be like her. Clearly I broke that promise.”

“Regina, no. You’re not like her at all. You’re a great mom.”

“Thank you, Emma, but I don’t just mean motherhood. I mean in general. She was truly an evil woman. She was completely heartless— and I mean that literally. She removed her own heart, because she believed love was weakness. That’s why she killed Daniel. Right in front of me. It was to teach me a lesson.”

“Regina, that’s sick!”

“Indeed.”

“You’re nothing like that!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Emma. I don’t know how to be a mother. The woman I was— the Mayor— she worked hard at everything, but her biggest priority was Henry. It didn’t matter if she had to walk out of town meetings, or if she had to cancel appointments last-minute. If Henry needed something— anything at all— she would be there for him. She was a good mother. She was a good mother because she was programmed to be one. Rumple made sure of it.”

“Rumple? As in Rumplestiltskin? What does he have to do with any of this?”

“He’s the one who gave me the Dark Curse,” Regina said quietly, “He taught me to use magic. Dark magic. He wanted me to cast it for him. I agreed to it, thinking it would bring me my happy ending— seeing Snow White suffer— but then I realized what price I would have to pay. I tried to get out of it, but I had already made a deal with him, and he forced me to cast the curse anyway.”

“Jesus, Regina, where the hell do I find this guy? I’d like to personally greet him with my fist.”

“In this world, he goes by ‘Mr. Gold.’”

The color drained from Emma’s face. “Oh fuck.”

\---

The Dark One stepped quietly into his house and limped his way upstairs and into the dusty attic, where he walked over to an old wooden chest and silently opened it to reveal a number of peculiar things. A doll made from straw, a chipped porcelain teacup, a large dreamcatcher, a velvet top-hat, and a long, jagged dagger. 

His cold lips twitched into a half-smirk as closed the chest, locking it with a rusty key. As tempting as it was to put these items to use, he knew it wasn’t quite time for that yet. He limped slowly to the circular window and peered out at the Hatter’s estate in the hills.

“Soon,” he promised, “Very soon.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A N G S T ! ! ! ! 
> 
> I had an incredibly difficult time writing this.

Emma was lying back against Regina with her head upon the brunette’s shoulder. The Queen’s arms were hooked protectively around her waist. The two were sleeping soundly (surprisingly enough), breathing soft, steady breaths as ethereal visions of one another filled their dreams. 

Henry, on the other hand, was wide awake. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get himself to fall asleep. He was overcome with an intense maelstrom of emotions. Confusion. Uncertainty. Sorrow. Fear. Guilt. They all melded together in the pit of his stomach, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Where was Jefferson’s hat? Maybe they could have used it to escape— perhaps to another world entirely, where no one would ever find them— but that simply wasn’t possible. At least, not yet. Henry was determined to find it, but he wasn’t about to leave the safety of the basement again, not while the sun was out. It was just beginning to rise. He could see the fingers of Dawn reaching through the little window at the top of the wall behind Emma and the Queen.

They seemed to sense this as well, even in their slumber. Emma was the first to stir. She seemed a bit dazed, as if not knowing where she was, but a small smile graced her lips when she realized she was resting in Regina’s arms. 

Henry didn’t know what to make of this. She was supposed to be the Savior. How could she be in love with the Evil Queen? As perplexing as this was, it was all-too evident, even to Henry. He just couldn’t understand it. Equally-puzzling was the fact that they were both women. He had never seen two women love each other in such a way. It just didn’t happen in Storybrooke. At least, not that he knew of. 

He had once asked his mother— long before he learned of her true identity— where babies came from, and she simply told him that babies were born when a man and a woman loved one another. She’d left it at that, as he was only eight at the time, and ever since, he’d just kind of assumed that only men and women could love each other. That was what Mother Superior and the other nuns seemed to believe. He and Regina had attended mass once with Graham, just to see whether or not it was worth going. Seeing how the town lacked a priest, Mother Superior had given a sermon— one regarding the ‘sanctity of marriage’— and as she did, her eyes were locked onto the Mayor’s nearly the entire time. 

Regina never let him go back. 

For some time afterwards, Henry often asked her why he couldn’t go. She would simply stare off into the distance, looking at everything and nothing all at once, and she would always give him the same answer.

“We have different interpretations of right and wrong.”

This had confused him, and it still did from time to time, but as he was beginning to understand, the concept of right and wrong, good and evil— whatever one chose to call it— was entirely subjective. There were no concrete definitions. Morality varied depending on how a person was raised. So, if that was the case, then that meant the Queen was only evil in some peoples’ eyes, but good in others. Just because the book called her the Evil Queen didn’t necessarily make it true. Right? 

Henry grimaced. What had he done? He had treated his own mother— Queen or not— like she was the scum of the Earth. Emma and Graham had been right, at least when it came to how much she loved and took care of him. 

Guilt struck him like a bolt of lightning.

He slowly made his way over to the pair, noticing that Emma had already fallen back to sleep. He climbed silently onto the cot and sat with his back to the wall, leaning against Regina and finally allowing himself to rest his tired eyes. He let out a quiet yawn, smiling softly when he felt her put an arm around him and draw him closer, like a mama-bear protecting her cub. 

Comfortable silence fell over the three of them as they sat together on the cot, dreaming pleasant, vivid dreams. Regina held Emma and Henry close as if never intending to let them go. She wished she didn’t have to. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when the mob found her, all that she held dear would be ripped from her arms— and from her heart.

Again.

She was going to do everything she could to protect her family. A faint smile graced her lips. Yes, she thought. Her family. She had her son and her True Love by her side, and she couldn’t help thinking the curse truly had given her happiness. She just hadn’t stopped to consider that her happy ending might not be what she’d imagined. 

She couldn’t have been more grateful if she tried.

\---

It had all happened so fast. One minute, the three of them were resting together on the old cot. The next, the basement door was being kicked in violently, much like in the vault. The suddenness of it all jolted them awake. It was the rush of fear and adrenaline that had both Emma and Regina scrambling off of the cot and shielding Henry as best as they could. 

Almost instinctively (much to her chagrin), Regina swiped the wooden box from beneath the cot and quickly pulled out a strange object that pulsed with a haunting crimson glow. Emma’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Regina what the hell is that?”

The Huntsman came storming down into the basement. “Heart!” he roared, “The Huntsman’s heart!”

“I promise you, Huntsman, I will return your heart soon,” said Regina, “but right now, I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” spat the Huntsman.

“Go back upstairs and keep whoever’s up there from coming down here. Give us ten minutes. You’ll have your heart back then. This, I swear.”

The Huntsman clearly didn’t believe any of this, but he begrudgingly did as he was told. He had no other choice. He couldn’t fight it no matter how hard he tried. He made his way back upstairs, and within seconds, shouting could be heard while a scuffle took place, seemingly between him and Prince Charming. 

Regina placed the heart back into the box and ushered Emma and Henry to the wooden crate positioned beneath the window. 

“Go,” she said frantically, “Go, quickly! We’ve got to move. Now!”

She hoisted Emma up first, then Henry, with the help of the blonde. It was admittedly difficult for her to pull herself through the window, but fortunately, she made it out just as Charming came rushing down into the basement, apparently having beaten the Huntsman. Regina would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. The Huntsman possessed incredible strength. She never would have guessed the Prince would defeat him so easily.

“Hey!” shouted the Prince, “Come back here and face me, witch! You can’t keep running forever!”

Anything else he might have said was cut off as the Huntsman tackled him to the ground, having managed to sneak up on the angry Shepherd. 

“Get the hell off me! What is wrong with you?!”

“Can’t!” the Huntsman said with a grunt, “Must obey!”

“Call your wolf, then! We can’t let her get away!”

The Huntsman whistled.

\---

They were almost to the Volkswagen when a snarling wolf came barreling out of the woods. Emma panicked, practically throwing herself in front of Henry in an effort to protect him from the beast.

“Stay behind me, kid!” she ordered, “Regina—”

The brunette already had a gun trained on the wolf, holding a defensive pose as she shielded both Emma and Henry. 

“I’ve got this, Emma,” Regina said firmly, “You and Henry get in the car.” 

“But, Regina—”

“This isn’t up for debate!” the Queen snapped. She immediately bit her lip, feeling guilty. Her voice softened. “The wolf won’t hurt you. I promise. It’s me he’s after.”

Emma swiftly ushered Henry towards the car, where he had to squeeze into the backseat with her unpacked belongings. Having inherited her curiosity, he was quick to notice the woolen blanket lying in the cardboard box next to him. It was a bit frayed at the edges, but it was otherwise identical to the one from the book. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, panicking when he realized that Emma hadn’t gotten into the car. On the contrary, she was currently making her way back towards the Queen, who was still caught in a standoff with the vicious wolf.

“Emma! Get in the car! Now!” 

“No! I won’t leave you!”

“You don’t have to! Just get in the car! I’m right behind you!”

Before either of them could say another word, an arrow pierced the ground at Regina’s bare feet. They both gasped and looked up to find Snow White charging towards them with her bow. Although against her better judgement, Regina couldn’t resist taunting the woman. 

“It seems you’ve gotten a bit rusty, dear,” she said, trying (and failing) not to smirk.

“That was just a warning shot!” shouted Snow, “Get away from my daughter, you bitch!”

Emma glared at the woman in contempt. “Don’t you dare talk to her that way!”

Snow suddenly froze, staring at the blonde in utter confusion. “Emma, why are you doing this? She’s the reason we had to send you away!”

“Oh, cut the crap, you lying sack of shit!”

Snow gasped. “Emma! What—”

“No! Don’t even try! I’ve already heard it! I have what I like to call a ‘superpower.’ I always know when a person is lying to me. You told me that having no legs had absolutely nothing to do with why you sent me away. You— my mother, who I’ve wanted to meet my entire life— lied to my face. Curse or no curse, you got rid of me because you couldn’t stand the idea of having a freak for a daughter!”

“No, Emma, you don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t understand? Oh, but I do understand! I understand completely! You’re prone to making shitty decisions, never stopping to think of how they might affect anyone else!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You know exactly what it means! Because of you and your big mouth, Regina had to watch her boyfriend die, right in front of her! You made a promise that you wouldn’t tell anyone about their love, and you broke it in the same breath! Because of you, Regina was forced to marry your father— a man three times her age! God only knows what she had to go through with that piece of shit!”

“She’s filled your head with lies, Emma! I didn’t kill Daniel! It wasn’t my fault!” cried Snow. 

Alarm bells went off in Emma’s head.

“And how can you say that about my father? He was a good man and a wonderful King! He was your grandfather, Emma!”

“You’re the one who’s lying, Snow! Even if I wasn’t a human lie-detector, I would still be able to tell!” shouted Emma, “It wasn’t your hand that took Daniel’s life, but if you hadn’t opened your stinking mouth, he would never have been killed! And do you seriously need me to explain why your father wanting to marry an eighteen-year-old is just plain wrong? If anyone’s evil, it’s you! You and your creepy father! I genuinely feel violated, knowing that we share the same blood!”

Just then, Charming came rushing out of the house, followed quickly by the Huntsman, who seemed more than determined to catch up with him.

“Snow!” he called, “We’ve got to get his heart back!”

Snow’s eyes narrowed as they focused on the wooden box in the Queen’s hand. “Oh, we will,” she said, raising her bow at the Queen.

Regina raised the gun just as quickly. “You let go, and I squeeze the trigger,” she sneered, “That’s a promise I intend to keep. Unlike you, I don’t go back on my word.”

“Just hand over the box,” said Snow.

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’ll shoot you if you don’t.”

Regina scoffed. “You’ll shoot me even if I do.”

“You’ve got me there,” Snow relented.

“No!” shouted Emma, “I’m not gonna let you shoot her, you bitch!”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” Snow spat.

Emma’s eyes widened in shock, though they narrowed as a scowl made its way onto her face. Her hands trembled, tightening into fists. Tears began to leak from her eyes. 

“Regina,” she said through clenched teeth, “Give me the box.”

“What? Emma—”

“Please! Just trust me, Regina!”

“I do trust you, Emma,” the brunette said softly, “I just don’t want you getting caught in the middle of all this.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Emma told her, “Please, give me the box.”

Regina handed the box to her lover without a word, never once taking her eyes off of Snow. Emma opened the box with shaky hand, staring at the heart in awe. This was really a heart. The Huntsman’s heart. As disturbing as that was, she couldn’t help thinking it was beautiful. It bore an eerie, crimson radiance. She slowly took it in her hand, holding it as though it was the most fragile thing to have ever existed. She reluctantly brought it to her lips.

“Call off the wolf,” she rasped.

Against his will, the Huntsman whistled, summoning the silver-haired beast. He watched Emma with a look of anger and uncertainty in his eyes, as well as what looked like fear. 

“I’m going to give you your heart back,” she promised, “I’m sorry, Graham. Or whoever the hell you are. I’m so, so sorry, but first, I need you to create a diversion.”

In a literal heartbeat, the Huntsman had the Prince locked in a chokehold. Snow gasped, turning towards the pair with her arrow drawn tightly and aimed at the Huntsman in warning.

“David!” she cried, “You have to let him go, Huntsman! The last thing I want is to shoot you, but I will if I must!”

“Snow! They’re,” Charming grunted, “getting away!”

Snow swiftly turned to find Regina and Emma clambering into the Volkswagen. She released her bowstring without hesitation, feeling victorious as a scream of agony erupted from the Queen’s lips. The arrow had pierced the woman’s right shoulder. Snow’s sense of victory was shattered when she heard an equally-harrowing scream coming from her daughter, who was at Regina’s side in an instant. 

She, in turn, let out a scream as a bolt of hot lead barreled into her left thigh. She fell onto her back in excruciating pain, clutching her bloody leg as tightly as she could. She struggled to lift her head, but when she did, she was horrified to find the gun in Emma’s hand. Emma had shot her. Her own daughter had shot her! She hadn’t even seen her pick it up!

Having tossed the gun away, Emma was clinging desperately to the brunette as she bled out into the grass. Emma had never seen so much blood come from one human being. She wept openly and endlessly, begging Regina not to leave her. Regina brought a trembling hand to her cheek, cupping it gently.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” she rasped.

Her hand fell away, limp, and the rest of her soon followed. Emma stared at her in horror and disbelief.

“Regina?” she whispered.

There was no answer. 

The brunette’s eyes were closed. It looked like she was sleeping. Like there wasn’t an arrow in her shoulder. Like she wasn’t bleeding to death. Like she would wake up at any moment and tell Emma it was all going to be okay. 

Henry scrambled out of the car, sobbing uncontrollably as he dropped to his knees next to his mother. Both of them. 

“Mom?” he asked pleadingly, as if that would somehow bring her back. He reached out to touch her, but froze when he realized just how much blood was pouring out of her. He felt sick. A quiet whimper escaped his quivering lips. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was as though he was drowning in a sea of despair.

Again, he whispered, “Mom?” 

Emma couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t think she could bear it, seeing such anguish on the boy’s face. No child should ever have to witness their parent dying in front of them. Before Emma could even really think about what she was doing, she had Regina’s face in her hands and was slamming their lips together in desperation.

A golden light settled over Regina, enveloping her body like a second skin. She began breathing again, though the rise and fall of her chest was hard to see through tearful eyes. Her eyes remained closed. She didn’t move. She just lied there, breathing soft, slow breaths. The radiance surrounding her began to pulse in time with her steady breathing. 

But she wouldn’t wake up.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some brief flashes into the Huntsman's past, along with some very interesting revelations....

“Emma!” cried Snow, “How could you do that?! How could you shoot me?! I’m your mother!”

Charming rushed to her side, pulling his jacket off and tying it tightly around her thigh like a makeshift bandage. He held her against him so that she wouldn’t fall. The Huntsman and his wolf stood silently in the background and watched this interaction with uncertainty. 

“You fucking shot Regina with an arrow, you stupid bitch!” Emma screamed, “And you’re not my mother! You may have given birth to me, but you sent me away on a whim! You don’t get to just come in my life and start trying to be a parent! You’re twenty-eight years late, Snow!” 

“I— I had to do something!” Snow argued.

“Bullshit! You could have done anything else— anything-fucking-else in the world! But you fucking shot her while her back was turned! How much lower can you possibly get?!”

“I wasn’t trying to kill her! I was only trying to slow her down!”

“Well I guess that just makes everything hunky-dory, doesn’t it?!” 

Snow blinked at her for a moment, uncertain. “…Does it?”

Emma stared at the woman incredulously. “Are you fucking serious? No! Jesus, you are so fucking idiotic!”

“Enough!” shouted Charming, “There’s no use bickering! What’s done is done! The Queen can’t hurt us. Not while she’s like this.”

Snow frowned. “But, David—”

“No,” the Prince said firmly, “Don’t you feel it, Snow? The magic? That’s True Love.”

“What?! But that’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible. It seems Emma really does love the Queen, and vice-versa. We may never understand it, but that doesn’t mean their love isn’t real. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that a Princess defied all so that she could marry a certain Shepherd. If that can happen, then who are we to keep the Savior from loving the Queen?”

“But she’s our daughter, David!”

“And we sent her away so she could have her best chance. Fate brought her here. Fate brought us together. Don’t you think that Fate brought her and the Queen together, as well?”

Snow opened her mouth to speak, but no words ever came. She could only stand there, sobbing openly into her husband’s shoulder. The pain she was in was excruciating, not just in her leg, but even more so in her heart. She stared at the unconscious Queen with a mix of hatred and disbelief. If Emma wouldn’t destroy the Queen, then she was just going to have to do it herself, no matter the cost. Then she could free her daughter from whatever spell the Queen had her under, and they could finally be a family. A loving, happy family.

Maybe she could even find Emma a good husband. She wasn’t going to have her daughter whistling at women. It wasn’t ladylike. It wasn’t right. More importantly, it would bring great shame to the royal family. They would be a laughingstock.

And she simply couldn’t allow that.

\---

The second the Huntsman pushed his heart back into his chest, he was overwhelmed with over thirty years’ worth of pent-up emotions. They all hit him at once. Anger. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. Guilt. He felt it all. But there was no joy. No happiness. He had never been happy. He’d never had much of a reason to be. His parents— whoever they were— had abandoned him in the forest to die. He had never known the love of a mother, nor the bond between father and son. The only family he’d ever had was the wolves who raised him. He was not a wolf. That much was clear. 

But he wasn’t quite a man, either. 

He was the Huntsman. He never had a name of his own. The wolves could not give him one, but that had always been fine with him. They gave him so much more. They accepted him into their pack, as if he was one of their own. They let him drink and play with them in the creek. They let him hunt with them. They protected him, as he did for them in return. The wolf next to him had always been his closest friend. Like him, the wolf had no name. At least, not truly. The Huntsman, though he rarely spoke, had only ever called him one thing. 

Brother.

The Huntsman had never experienced much happiness in his troubled life— if one could even call it that— but Graham Humbert? Graham was always cheerful, always smiling, always walking with a skip in his step. Aside from the difficulties he had with his lungs, he led a good, honest, happy life. Graham was everything the Huntsman wished he could be. 

He let out a quiet laugh, but it lacked all humor. The curse was broken. He had his heart back. He was free. Why, then, did he feel trapped? This was reality. Why, then, did he feel cursed? He warred with these troubling thoughts, but found that he was greatly outmatched. All he could think about was how badly he wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted to be happy again, even if he couldn’t remember who he was. Was that really so bad? Truthfully, there wasn’t much in his life worth remembering. 

Graham Humbert had been brought up by kind, loving parents, in a quiet and peaceful town where no one was a stranger. Graham Humbert was a tenderhearted man, and despite his difficulties breathing, he viewed the world through a lens of optimism. He ate his apple pancakes each morning— never without cinnamon— he downed cranberry juice like shots, and he took puffs from his inhaler as though it were a pipe. He led a life truly worth living. He was everything the Huntsman wasn’t. 

And yet, there was one struggle they each faced. One secret they’d harbored. One secret they’d kept locked away, hidden in the darkest depths of their dual minds. One secret that could never be brought to light. Their reasons for keeping such a secret were not so different, either.

Graham had been raised Catholic. He could not quite call himself a God-fearing man. He did not fear God. He loved God, and he prayed each and every day, desperately wishing that God would love him back. He prayed so that God would save his soul, for his mind was constantly flooded with unholy thoughts. He prayed so that these thoughts would disperse, but they never did. The Good Book stated plainly that the desire he felt in his heart was sinful. Heresy. An abomination. ‘Love the sinner, not the sin,’ he’d often heard. 

The Huntsman had only realized what it was he desired when he dared to venture out of the woods and into the world of men. He’d wandered into a tavern, curious as to what sorts of things went on in such a place. He was met with bewildered and even fearful stares, but that did not deter him from staring back. There were a number of women present, though they were either barmaids or harlots, but it was not they who made his heart race. 

Unsettled by this revelation, the Huntsman had drowned his troubles with the sweet taste of honey mead. Or rather, attempted do. He could hardly stand up by the end of the night. He only left because he’d run out of what little coin he had. Even in his drunken stupor, he realized he wasn’t wanted there, and so he’d stumbled his way down to the docks where he came upon a number of rugged yet suave seafarers. 

The memory of that night was still fuzzy. All he remembered was the potent scent of rum, along with brief flickers of a man whose hair and eyes were as dark as his clothes, and whose left hand had been crudely substituted with a polished hook. And of course, he could still recall the pain he’d felt for days after. He hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for nearly a week.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall the man’s face. Just those piercing eyes, accented with an excess of dark makeup. That still puzzled him, for he’d only ever seen women sport makeup, but then again, he’d only ever known that men lied with women. He never would have imagined that two men could—

The Huntsman shook the thought from his head. His jaw clenched and his fists tightened as he glanced down at the silver wolf waiting silently at his side. 

“Come, Brother,” he uttered, “Must help Savior.”

The wolf trotted alongside him as he made his way towards the trembling blonde. The Queen was still in her arms, glowing like the morning sun. Emma stared up at him in a mix of anger and uncertainty. He extended his hand to her as their eyes met. 

“Come,” he said softly. 

He was no longer the cold, heartless brute he had been only moments ago. His eyes now possessed a gleam similar to the one Emma had seen in Graham’s. They weren’t entirely the same, but at least there was still some semblance of the Sheriff left within him. 

“Will keep you safe. Promise.”

Emma tentatively took his hand. The second she did, she was astonished to see a smile gracing the Huntsman’s lips. 

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, “Why now?”

“Gave back heart. Must return favor.”

“You’ll really help us? Regina, too?”

The Huntsman didn’t flinch this time when hearing the brunette’s name. His grip on Emma’s hand tightened, and his smile, although faint, grew a bit wider. 

“Yes,” he said, “For you, Savior.”


	30. Chapter 30

Henry watched with glistening eyes as Emma lied next to his unconscious mother, sobbing openly into her shoulder and clinging to the brunette as if her life depended on it (and in a way, it did). Henry had cried so much that he could no longer shed tears. Emma’s tears, however, continued to leak from her bloodshot eyes. Her face was red from all the crying she’d done, as well as her anger towards the woman claiming to be her mother.

When Snow had seen the Huntsman lifting the Queen into Emma’s car, she’d nearly had a conniption, demanding to know why he would even dream of aiding the enemy. Her shrieking had gotten on his last nerve, and so the Huntsman sent the wolf to frighten her into silence, as well as provide a barrier between the two parties. 

“Traitor!” Snow had shouted, “You’ll pay for this—” 

She’d quickly shut her mouth when the wolf began snarling viciously at her. She trembled in fear, clutching her husband’s shoulders for both physical and emotional support. Even Charming was grateful for the silence. He loved her, he really did, but he didn’t think he could take any more of her shrill cries.

The Huntsman had uttered into Emma’s ear, not wishing for the royals to overhear him as he instructed her to go to the Station and wait in the basement. She had, and nearly an hour later, the Huntsman arrived with an armful of guns and enough ammo to last them a month. 

“Savior can use gun,” he said, “Shot Snow White.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had to defend myself from time to time,” Emma had explained, “You never know what asshole might wanna mug a woman with no legs. Oh, and I, uh, gotta be honest. I wasn’t actually aiming. I just pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger without really thinking about it. I honestly didn’t care where I hit her. I wanna feel bad, and I know I probably should, but I don’t. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Protecting Queen,” the Huntsman had told her, “Do not apologize.”

“I’m sorry I used your heart against you, Huntsman.”

The man had placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Alright now,” he’d said, “Everything alright. Must look after Queen.”

\---

Emma had fallen asleep in the midst of crying over Regina. Her head was now resting on the woman’s shoulder, and she had her arm draped across the brunette, holding her close. If not for her tears, she might have seemed peaceful. The golden radiance surrounding the Queen had begun to pulse and flicker, whirling and weaving with wisps of amethyst. Seeing this alarmed Henry.

“What— what is that?” he asked, frantic. “What’s going on?”

The Huntsman brought a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Calm,” he said softly, “Queen’s magic. Becoming one with Savior’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“Savior’s magic fusing with Queen’s. Healing her.”

“So she’ll really be okay, then?”

The Huntsman nodded. “Savior will help. Savior loves Queen. Queen loves Savior.”

Henry looked up at him with a small smile. “Do you love anyone, Huntsman?”

“Love Brother. Love wolf family.”

“I mean, is there a person that you love?”

The bearded man was silent as he pondered this. Then, ruffling Henry’s hair, he uttered, “Love Henry. Love Savior. Love family.” 

He looked over at the unconscious brunette. 

“Maybe could love Queen, too.”

Henry’s smile widened as he squeezed the Huntsman’s hand. Silence fell between them as they watched Emma’s magic meld with Regina’s. The sight was undeniably beautiful, as was the love it represented. The Huntsman reached into his pocket and retrieved the Sheriff’s inhaler, taking a tentative puff from it.

Seeing the curious look on the boy’s face, he said, “Breathtaking.”

\---

When Emma awoke, she found that the magic surrounding Regina was flickering rapidly between gold and purple. For a moment, she started to panic, but something told her there was nothing to worry about, and that everything was going to be alright. The magic had caused the arrow to break away and fade into the nothingness, as if it was never even there to begin with. 

“Come on, Regina,” she whispered, “You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

Emma blinked quickly, wondering whether or not she was hallucinating. She swore she saw Regina’s lips twitch, as if trying to form a smile, but when she blinked, she realized the brunette’s expression had yet to change. The magic surrounding Regina’s body, however, had begun flickering and rippling more rapidly.

Emma had been holding Regina’s hand the entire time, and until that moment, there had been no movement on the Queen’s behalf. Now, however, she could feel Regina’s hand squeezing back. She almost missed it the first time, as it was brief, but now the brunette’s grip had tightened, as if never intending to let go. 

“Regina?” she whispered, uncertain.

Then, the swirling magic slowly began to fade away, and the second it disappeared, Regina’s eyes blinked open. She stared up at Emma in pure awe, having never seen anything quite so beautiful. A warm smile graced her lips.

“I’m here, my love,” she said softly, “Your Queen is here.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update. Notice the rating change! The reason for this is at the end of the chapter, and I have to say, I got a bit flustered while writing it. ;) Enjoy.

The Dark One limped his way through the forest towards the old well. All was quiet, save for the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath his feet. In one hand he clutched his cane. In the other, he held a vial of the Queen’s blood, taken from the grass behind the Hatter’s mansion. It exuded magic— more specifically, the combined magic of the Queen and the Savior. The most powerful magic of all.

True Love.

When he reached his destination, he removed the cork from the glass vial, smirking deviously as he cast it into the dark waters below. His smirk widened into a delighted yet sinister grin when a plume of thick, whirling smoke began rising up out of the well. The smoke was both a blinding white and a deep purple, twisting and wafting together through the muggy air. 

He turned around as the smoke rolled over him, and his eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam. The smoke filled the forest rapidly, rising up high over the trees and swallowing up everything in sight. 

“Just a little longer,” he said, “I promise.”

\---

Emma was panicking, clinging to Regina for dear life as the whirling mist came rolling through the door and down the steps into the basement. 

“Regina! What the hell is that?!”

Regina placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “That, my dear, is magic,” she said rather fondly.

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but promptly shut it. She couldn’t find the right words. As the white-and-purple mist surrounded her and Regina like a maelstrom, her hold on the Queen tightened and she buried her face in the brunette’s side, trembling uncontrollably. The Queen stroked her hair affectionately, attempting to calm her down.

“It’s alright, Emma. It won’t hurt you.”

“A-Are you sure?”

Regina nodded. “Yes, dear.”

“How? How can you be so sure?”

“Because, Emma,” murmured the Queen, “that’s our magic.”

Hearing this, Emma reluctantly turned to find the energy weaving and whirling, much like the radiance that had surrounded Regina as it healed her. She stared at it in pure wonder, tentatively reaching out to touch it. The swirling energy slipped easily between her trembling fingers, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

“It’s,” she paused, “It’s so beautiful.”

“As is the love that created it,” Regina told her.

A blush spread over Emma’s cheeks as she heard this. Looking up at Regina, she was astonished to find the woman’s eyes flickering from their usual deep brown to an even deeper purple, glowing in a way that left Emma speechless. They were even more beautiful than the magic mist. Alas, the mystical glow vanished as quickly as it had appeared. 

Regina offered a soft smile as she met Emma’s mesmerized gaze. She held up a hand, never once breaking eye-contact with the blonde while she conjured up a long-stemmed rose out of thin air. Its petals were amethyst, and its stem was entirely void of thorns. Her smile widened as she handed it to the bewildered blonde.

“A rare rose, whose petals will never wither,” she said, “for you, my dearest love.”

Emma accepted it with a look of pure wonder masking her face. She brought it to her nose, basking in the heavenly aroma it exuded. She ran a thumb across its soft, velvet petals and allowed her eyes to slip shut as she reminisced the time she and Regina gave into their desire for one another. It hadn’t been Regina, she realized. Well, it had been, but not quite. She wondered if things would be the same between them, should they ever give into such desires again. She certainly hoped so. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, holding the rose against her racing heart, “Thank you, Regina.”

The smile that graced the Queen’s flawless face was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing of all. Kneeling down, she gently cupped Emma’s face and wiped away the blonde’s tear with her thumb. 

“Let’s go home,” she murmured.

Emma’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought it wasn’t safe there.”

“Yes, well, that was before I had my magic,” Regina told her, “They won’t be able to hurt us anymore.”

Emma looked at her with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“I promise.” 

Regina pressed her lips to the blonde’s forehead, and as she did, a cloud of thick, purple smoke surrounded them, along with Henry and the Huntsman, and when it cleared, they were standing in the foyer of the Mayor’s mansion. The place was in complete disarray. Nearly all the furniture had been overturned. All of the windows were broken. The walls were riddled with a multitude of crude names and threats, most of them carved with daggers, though some of them smeared onto the walls using who-knows-what. Well, they all had a pretty good idea what it was, given the color and the god-awful stench, but none of them wanted to think about it too much. 

Regina placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I suppose I should get started.”

Having created a barrier around the house using what she called ‘blood magic,’ Regina used her recovered powers to repair the damage caused by the angry townspeople. 

The shit on the walls was the first to go.

\---

It didn’t take long to clean everything up. 

Nor did it take long for the mob to come storming towards the mansion with torches and pitchforks. No matter how hard they stabbed, chopped, or shot at the barrier, they simply couldn’t break through it. They’d been out there for nearly an hour now, and they hadn’t left so much as a scratch (nor were they going to). 

“Gotta give ‘em props for trying,” Emma said with a mouthful of popcorn. 

She and Regina were in the living room, curled up together on the couch as they watched the furious mob attempt to get through the barrier. It was quite clear that they were shouting, but the magic was blocking out any and all sounds. Instead, Emma and Regina were enjoying the chaos with a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn (Emma’s idea, of course) and an old Perry Como album on the antique gramophone, which had just begun playing his rendition of Ave Maria (Regina’s favorite song).

The front door was wide open, allowing them a perfect view of the madness outside. They had rotated the couch so that it was facing the door. Snow White was suddenly at the front of the mob, crying and screaming obscenities in vain. They didn’t need to hear her voice to know what she was saying. 

Regina suddenly lifted Emma’s chin and brought her lips to the blonde’s, kissing her gently. Emma eagerly returned the kiss. They each cracked an eye open, both of them smirking into the kiss when they saw the outrage on Snow’s tear-streaked face.

Emma chuckled as she pulled away. “Wanna take it a little further?”

Regina’s eyes darkened with desire. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want. You’re the Queen, after all.”

“As tempting as that is, there’s a child present,” said Regina, “Why don’t we go someplace a little quieter?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The Queen turned towards Snow with a sly smirk on her lips, and with a wave of her hand, she summoned a plume of purple smoke. It surrounded her and Emma, and when it vanished, so did they. The moment it did, the front door slammed shut and the lock clicked.

\---

They reappeared upstairs in Regina’s bedroom. More specifically, on her bed. The door locked on its own, and a flash of purple lit up the room. It was impossible to miss the curiosity in Emma’s eyes.

“Silencing spell,” Regina explained, “No one will hear us.”

She pressed her lips against Emma’s almost hungrily, groaning into the kiss and tangling her fingers in golden tresses. She flicked her wrist and rendered herself naked. Her lips found their way to Emma’s throat once more.

“Now then, where were we?” she husked, spurred on by Emma’s delicious moans.

She snapped her fingers, summoning a myriad of scented candles that flickered all around the room. It was otherwise dark, but the eerie orange glow somehow managed to increase their shared libido. Regina sank her teeth into the junction between Emma’s neck and shoulder, biting playfully, but not enough to bring her genuine harm. 

Before long, it began to rain outside. The steady sound of the rain pattering against the window melded beautifully with the soft gasps and moans escaping Emma’s quivering lips. She hooked her arms around Regina, holding the brunette close as she kissed and sucked at her neck. 

“M-More,” Emma breathed, “Please.”

Regina gave her a knowing smile, regarding her with lustful brown eyes. With a mere wave of the hand, the Queen rendered her equally-naked. 

“Tell me what you want, Em-ma,” the Queen purred.

Emma’s eyes dilated, eclipsing with unabashed desire. “You,” she rasped, “All I want is you.”

Regina chuckled softly. “That can be arranged.”

Emma learned many things that night. The first and most important thing was that when it came to sex, the Mayor and the Queen were day and night. Sex with the Mayor had been soft, slow, and gentle. Almost timid. But with the Queen, it was hard. It was fast at times, but slow in others. Best of all, it was rough, though not overly so.

The second thing Emma learned was that she was a squirter. Until that night, she had never been one. Either the Queen was just that good in bed, or she was enhancing the pleasure with her magic. Or both. Emma liked to think it was both. At the same time, she learned just how loudly she could scream. She was immensely grateful for that silencing spell. 

The third thing she learned that night was that the Queen could draw five orgasms out of her with her tongue alone. After the sixth, Emma had stopped counting altogether. She could think of nothing but Regina, and of just how incredible— how right— this all felt. With Regina, she felt complete. Certainly so when she had that hot tongue where she needed it most.

‘You still taste like honey, my sweet,’ the Queen had rasped, only to dive right back in for more. 

Just when Emma thought things couldn’t possibly get any better, she learned the true meaning of ‘magic fingers.’ They glowed purple as they pumped and curled within her, but that was only the half of it. They began sending delicious vibrations through her aching core, spurring her closer and closer towards the edge. She could still feel herself pulsing long after they had slipped out of her, glistening with her arousal. The sight of Regina licking it from her glowing fingers had to be the most erotic thing Emma had ever seen.

Even then, the night had been far from over.

Before long, Emma found herself flipped onto her stomach, crying out in breathless ecstasy as the Queen gave it to her with six inches of silicone strapped to those gorgeous hips. She didn’t learn until later that Regina had enchanted it to feel every clench and quiver of that tight, wet heat within her.

And that made it so much hotter.


	32. Chapter 32

Emma awoke to find Regina smiling warmly at her, draping an arm over her stomach almost protectively, as if claiming her. Had it been anyone else, she’d have taken offense. She wasn’t an object one could simply claim. With Regina, however, it was different. She didn’t feel like an object. She felt more human when they were together. More alive. Regina looked at her like an actual person. That much had been clear last night. A deep blush spread across her cheeks at the memory.

Regina chuckled softly, as if knowing exactly what was on Emma’s mind. She leaned over and planted a light kiss upon the blonde’s lips. The scent of warm honey still lingered on her breath.

“Good morning, Emma,” she murmured.

“Morning,” Emma said with a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. 

She arched her back as she did, unknowingly drawing the Queen’s eyes to her breasts. She gasped in both surprise and pleasure when she felt the brunette’s thumb brush over her nipple, causing it to stiffen. She met the woman’s eyes and found them burning with intense desire. 

“I want you so badly,” the Queen husked.

Emma’s heart began to beat rapidly as her lover’s lips kissed their way over it and down to her breast, enveloping her tight nipple. Her eyes slipped shut and she groaned, burying her fingers in dark, mussed hair when she felt the Queen nip lightly at the sensitive flesh. 

“If we do this now, we’ll miss breakfast,” she said between moans.

The Queen laughed quietly as she lifted her head to meet Emma’s gaze. A slight smirk graced her lips. She cupped the blonde’s face as though it was fragile and pressed her forehead to Emma’s, ever so gently.

“That is quite the predicament. Why don’t I make you breakfast in bed?” 

“O-Okay,” Emma said, flustered, “Let me throw something on—”

Regina pressed a finger to Emma’s lips, silencing her. She then began nipping at Emma’s ear, reveling in the way the blonde shuddered as she traced it with her tongue. Her words sparked a rush of delicious heat within Emma’s core. 

“No, Emma,” she rasped, “I said I would make you breakfast in bed. You’re what’s for breakfast.”

A quiet groan escaped Emma’s lips as the Queen began trailing soft kisses down her stomach. 

\---

Sated, the Queen made her way into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving her dazed lover alone to catch her breath. She couldn’t help smirking. It seemed she had really done a number on Emma. The blonde appeared to be in some sort of sex-induced coma. What exactly had caused it? Was it her talented tongue or her enchanted cock? What had Emma enjoyed most? At this point, it was impossible to tell, but Regina was going to find out, and whatever it was that Emma desired, she was going to deliver it tenfold. 

When she stepped out of the shower, she dried herself off with a simple flick of her wrist and dressed herself in the blink of an eye. She then applied a bit of makeup to her face manually, only wishing to accent her features in hopes of being more appealing to her blonde lover. She kept trying to assure herself that Emma would love her no matter how she looked, but her insecurity had begun creeping into her mind like a virus. 

Her eyes fell upon the little white bottle on the counter. For nearly thirty years now, she had been choking down anti-depressants. She couldn’t just quit cold-turkey, knowing it wouldn’t be good for her, but at the same time, she felt she no longer needed it. Not when she had Emma. Drugs may have been able to take away the pain, at least for a little while, but they would never truly heal her fragmented heart. No. Only her beloved Knight could put her heart back together. 

When she exited the bathroom, she found Emma at her in awe. A half-smirk graced her lips as she locked eyes with the flustered blonde.

“See something you like?” she purred.

Emma’s eyes were dilated with desire. “You look so goddamn sexy in that outfit,” she groaned, “but I think it would look way better on the floor.”

Regina had expected this reaction. In fact, she’d been counting on it. She was clad in skin-tight pants made from genuine black leather and a sleeveless crop top of equal blackness. Seeing the lust in Emma’s sea-green eyes, she climbed onto bed like a jungle cat in search of her prey. She loomed over the blushing blonde with her hands resting on either side of Emma’s head, and after a moment, she offered a playful smirk.

“Later,” she whispered, “Right now, I have to fetch some things from my vault.”

Emma frowned. “But, Regina—” 

The Queen pressed a finger to the blonde’s lips. “Don’t worry, my love. I will merely be teleporting there and back. I’ll put up a barrier there, as well, so no one will be able to get inside. I’ll be fine. I won’t be gone long.”

“Promise?” Emma asked apprehensively.

A soft smile of reassurance spread across Regina’s face. “I promise,” she murmured, kissing Emma sweetly. “Get dressed, dearest. I’ll make you breakfast when I return. For real, this time.”

“Pancakes?”

“Of course.”

Emma smiled back at her. “Can they have chocolate chips?”

Regina chuckled. “Absolutely,” she said softly, “Anything for you, my darling.”

She vanished in a plume of purple smoke, and when it cleared, she found herself standing in the depths of her vault. Once more, she put up a barrier using blood magic, and with a mere wave of her hand, she cleaned up the mess of broken vials, overturned furniture, and cracked mirrors. Then, she walked to the old bookcase and pushed it aside with her magic, revealing a secret room full of various potions and scrolls. 

Conjuring up a box, she piled everything inside until the dusty shelves were occupied only by cobwebs. Even with the barrier, she couldn’t just leave these here unguarded. She had to keep an eye on them. She needed to ensure they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or the people she loved. 

\---

She rematerialized in her bedroom and found that Emma had already gone downstairs. She walked silently to her closet with the box and pushed aside a stack of shoe-boxes to reveal a secret safe built into the wall. Not even Henry knew this was here. She unlocked it with her magic and began placing the scrolls and potions inside with care. She was going to prepare a potion later, but right now, all she wanted was to spend time with the people she loved. 

With her family. 

Regina ventured downstairs and found Emma, Henry, and the Huntsman waiting for her at the kitchen table. Emma’s eyes lit up and a smile spread wide across her perfect face when she saw the Queen moving through the living room. Regina was quick to return the smile. It pleased her to see the light blush that crept onto the blonde’s cheeks.

“Hi,” Emma said sheepishly.

“Hello, dear. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“It’s okay,” the blonde told her, “You weren’t gone very long. Did you get everything you needed?”

Regina gave a small nod. “Yes. I was just putting it away,” she explained. She placed her hands on her hips as her smile widened. “Now, who wants pancakes?”

\---

Emma groaned as she fell back onto the bed, clutching at her stomach. This was the first thing Regina saw when she entered the bedroom. 

“Are you alright, Emma?”

Another groan escaped the blonde’s lips. “I ate too many pancakes,” she said remorsefully, “My stomach’s killing me.”

Regina offered a smile that was both sympathetic and slightly amused. She quietly closed the door, locking it behind her before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She placed a gentle hand on Emma’s stomach and her fingers began to glow a familiar purple. The magic phased through the blonde’s shirt and into her pale skin. 

“Wow,” Emma breathed, “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Thanks, Regina.”

The brunette responded by leaning down to kiss her. 

“You’re more than welcome, Emma. What kind of Queen would I be if I let my Knight suffer?”

“It’s only a stomach-ache.”

Regina shook her head. “You were still in pain,” she murmured, “Tu dolor es mi dolor, mi patito.” 

Emma’s eyes darkened with lust. “God,” she groaned, “You sound so fucking hot when you speak Spanish.”

The Queen chuckled. “Is that so? Do you even know what I said?”

Emma shook her head. “Nope,” she confessed, “but it’s still hot.”

A smirk graced the brunette’s plush lips. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she husked, nipping playfully at Emma’s ear, “but right now, I need to conduct a few experiments.”

“Experiments?”

Regina couldn’t bring herself to lie to Emma. “Potions,” she said softly.

“Oh yeah? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Mixing potions can be dangerous, even if you know what you’re doing,” Regina told her, “I don’t want you to get hurt, my darling, but you’re more than welcome to watch, if you’d like.”

Emma grinned. “I’d like that a lot.”

\---

The blonde watched curiously as Regina poured a vial of neon-blue liquid into a bronze chalice, sprinkling a black, shimmering powder into it and stirring them together slowly. She had everything laid out on the marble counter next to the bathroom sink, concentrating solely on her work.

Before long, a faint mist began rising up out of the chalice, gradually turning from blue to purple. A look of pride masked her face as the mist changed color. She then took a small dropper and collected a sample from a lime-green potion and added a single drop into the purple elixir. Setting the dropper aside, she carefully brought the chalice to her lips and allowed her eyes to slip shut as she took a sip. She let out a groan the moment the potion met her tongue, but otherwise remained silent.

Emma’s brows furrowed in concern. “…Regina?” she asked hesitantly.

The Queen’s eyes opened, and Emma was stunned to find them glowing an increasingly-familiar shade of purple. This time was a bit different. Her eyes were shimmering like stars in the night sky. 

Emma couldn’t stop staring at them, no matter how hard she tried. It was almost as if she was being entranced. She moved closer to Regina unknowingly, drawn towards the Queen like a moth to a flame. 

“Oh, Emma,” rasped the Queen, “Come to me, my love.” 

“So, what’s the potion do?” asked Emma.

Regina took the blonde’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It will allow us to feel what the other is feeling, as long as we both drink it. That way I can be there for you when you need me. I can protect you.”

She offered the chalice to Emma, who accepted it readily.

“Only take a sip,” she instructed, “Any more than that, and it’ll overwhelm you.”

Emma did as the Queen advised, taking a small sip from the bejeweled chalice. The second she did, she groaned uncontrollably. The potion tasted like a bizarre yet pleasant mix of cranberries and mint, as well as something she couldn’t quite recognize. Moments after swallowing it, a warm tingling sensation began spreading through her body like wildfire. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was astonished to find that her eyes had taken on a golden glow. They almost looked as though they were burning, like passionate supernovas. They grew brighter when she met Regina’s amethyst gaze, and the spark of desire within her core ignited into a furious flame that only the Queen could conquer. 

The two of them shuddered involuntarily, feeling pleasant chills shooting down their spines. They moaned as they experienced each other’s rapidly-increasing libido. 

“Emma?” Regina groaned.

“Y-Yeah?”

The brunette let out a shaky breath in an attempt to keep from moaning. “I think we both drank more than we should have.”

“I— Is this why I feel so— so—” 

“Aroused?”

Emma could only nod as she bit her lip. She was becoming hotter by the second. All she wanted to do was tear her clothes off, and of course, the Queen’s. She was panting heavily now. 

“God, Regina,” she breathed, “I need— I need you to fuck me. Please.”

A purple mist surrounded them, transporting them onto the bed. Emma was still staring into Regina’s lustful eyes, but her attention was quickly drawn to the flash of magic coming from the brunette’s hips. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at.

Regina was topless, but her leather pants remained, and around them, fastened to her curvaceous hips, was an enormous cock. Equally-black. Equally-leather. Much larger than the one from last night. Her eyes burned with wanton desire as they met Emma’s.

“You said you needed to be fucked, Em-ma,” she purred, “so I’m going to fuck you. Hard.” 

She slammed her lips against Emma’s, letting out what sounded almost like a growl. She then brought them to the blonde’s ear and bit roughly at the lobe. She took the cock in her iron grip, enchanting it so as to give it sensation. 

“The safe-word is ‘red.’”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update. Warning: explicit sex scene! I'm really sorry if this isn't your cup of tea, but if it is, then enjoy! :)

The Mayor had been vanilla in every sense of the word, and there was nothing wrong with that, but she was incredibly tame in bed. The Queen, on the other hand, was a wild beast, driven by burning desire and the sheer satisfaction of hearing the delicious screams and wanton moans of her golden-haired lover. So many people had manipulated and controlled her throughout her life. It was because of this that she developed a lust for power. This power had molded her into a carnal beast, hell-bent on domination. 

Whether over her kingdom or in her bed, she craved control, just as she craved the sweet cries of the blonde, writhing and whimpering beneath her as she pounded into that beautifully-tight pussy. She could feel it pulsing and clenching around her like a vice. 

Her hands were clutching Emma’s hips tightly as she slammed her cock into the warm, wet velvet. She had already gotten the blonde to come three times now, and judging by the intense coiling around her temporal cock, it was soon to be four. 

She groaned in a mix of pleasure and pain as she felt Emma’s nails raking across her scarred back, spurring her on. Although neither of them thought it possible, she increased the relentless pace of her thrusts, pounding harder, faster— deeper— and making Emma scream in a way that would have put a Banshee to shame.

As much as she wished it wasn’t true, she was overwhelmed with the desire to dominate this beautiful blonde. She would never dream of restricting Emma’s freedom, but when it came to sex, she wanted nothing more than to see the woman gasping and moaning beneath her, begging for sweet release (much like was happening now). She wanted the satisfaction of knowing she could bring such immense pleasure to this incredible woman. 

It pleased her greatly to have gotten permission to drive her cock into the blonde. She hadn’t wished to scare Emma away with her ‘unusual’ desires. When her Knight had begged to be fucked, she knew she couldn’t just pass up such a golden opportunity. There was a fine line between making love and getting fucked. Lovemaking was passionate and steamy, she found. Fucking, on the other hand, was almost vicious. It was fiery in nature, and— dare she say it— merciless. 

It seemed that the Queen had truly taken over, at least for the time being. There was no evil at play, but it was undeniable that this deviant behavior had stemmed from her. At the start of her reign— and long before— Regina had never once witnessed a woman don a synthetic cock. It wasn’t until He perished that she swore she would never allow another man to touch her. 

She realized years earlier that she desired the company of her fellow women. She’d sought many a beautiful maiden to share her bed with, but could find only harlots in the taverns who would do anything and everything for coin. She had eventually outlawed prostitution, among other things.

She did end up taking a young mistress to bed with her, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The girl— Mara— had died during a particularly-cold winter, at just nineteen. Not much younger than the Queen. She’d wanted to at least attempt to compensate Mara’s family, but she was saddened to learn the girl was an orphan. Just like Emma. Like Emma, Mara had been beautifully-pale and blessed with a head of gold. 

Regina pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind. Groaning, she continued slamming her cock into Emma. She felt the blonde grab desperately at her hair, pulling at it rather roughly.

“Oh, fuck! I’m gonna come,” Emma whimpered, “I’m gonna fucking come! I— I’m so close!”

Regina’s grip on the blonde’s hips tightened, and her thrusts became even harder, as it was growing increasingly-difficult to maintain her pace with Emma’s pussy coiling around her. For a second, the image of a boa constrictor flashed through her mind, but she quickly disregarded it. All she wanted was to focus on pleasing the gorgeous woman before her. Emma’s pain was her pain, as was her pleasure.

“Yes, Emma,” she rasped, “Sweet Emma. My beloved Knight. Come for your Queen. I want my name on your lips when you come.”

Emma threw her head back and cried out the Queen’s name in utter bliss. Her back arched and her entire body seemed to pulse as her essence spilled out onto the glistening, leather cock. She clutched at the brunette’s back, sinking her nails into the woman’s skin in an effort to hold herself up. The Queen, in turn, held her close while they rocked together in ecstasy. She buried her face in the smooth junction between the Queen’s neck and shoulder, gasping and trembling uncontrollably as her lover pounded into that sweet-spot deep within her core. 

The scream that escaped her was music to Regina’s ears.

\---

Later, as she was coming down from her orgasmic high, Emma lied silently beneath the warm covers, reveling in the feeling of the Queen’s hand stroking her hair. Her eyes were closed and there was a peaceful smile gracing her lips. She was slowly drifting into the arms of Morpheus. The last thing she heard before slipping away into dreamland was the soft voice of her lover.

“I love you, Emma Swan.”


	34. Chapter 34

That night, Regina prepared a feast fit for a Queen (using magic, of course, seeing how she couldn’t just buy these things at the market). Alongside the finest wine and mead, there was an assortment of fruits and vegetables, honeycomb, fresh fish, tender stag, baked chicken, succulent ham, and at the center of it all, an enormous roast swan. 

“Swan always was my favorite.” 

Regina gave Emma a wink (or at least, tried to) as she said this. She took a small sip of her wine and shot the blonde a suggestive look over the rim of her glass. Much to her delight, a deep blush crept onto her lover’s pale cheeks. It started to fade when Henry drew Emma’s attention.

“You should try the honeycomb,” the boy suggested with a mouthful of said entree.

Regina cleared her throat, grabbing his attention. She arched an eyebrow at him. “What have I said about speaking with your mouth full?” she chided gently.

Henry’s eyes fell to his plate as he swallowed. “Not to,” he uttered.

The brunette nodded. “Carry on, darling.”

“The honeycomb,” Henry said again, “It’s really sweet. Kind of crunchy.”

Emma took a bite of the honeycomb and was visibly taken aback. She chewed it slowly so as to savor it. She had never tasted honeycomb before, but now she knew she never wanted to go a day without it. Her mouth watered and her stomach roared, demanding more of the sticky treat as well as the steaming meat laid out before her. She carefully cut a piece of fish and set it onto her plate. It appeared to be salmon, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

“What kind of fish is this?” she quizzed. 

“Herring,” the Queen replied. 

Emma took a bite of it and let out a quiet moan as the flavor met her tongue. Once more, she chewed slowly so that she could savor the taste. 

“It’s amazing.”

Regina smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

‘But not as amazing as you,’ thought Emma. 

She was piling more food onto her plate when she noticed the Queen watching her with a pleased expression. She simply smiled and began stuffing her face with honeycomb, apple slices, and roast swan— another first for her. She hummed in appreciation as she bit into the tender meat. Still feeling the Queen’s eyes on her, she looked up to find desire burning within them. Having this magical connection with the Queen, she was overcome with an intense need to jump the woman, right there on the table, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now. Not in front of the kid or the Huntsman. 

And certainly not before she was finished eating. 

The Queen chuckled softly as if she’d heard Emma’s thoughts. Judging by the knowing look in her eyes, she probably had. She watched contentedly as Emma continued sampling the various dishes. Soon, however, her eyes were drawn to the ravenous Huntsman. 

He was sitting next to Henry, tearing into a hunk of stag like a wild animal. He had forgone silverware, as he was no longer the polite, pancake-loving Sheriff. He was going solely off of his instincts as the feral Man-Beast, as he’d been dubbed by the village folk. He paid no mind to the strange looks he was getting from those around him. A wolf knew nothing about the manners of men, and cared less for their courtesy. A wolf was not a man, after all. Nor was a man a wolf. But he was neither a wolf nor a man. He was an urban legend in the flesh. A walking enigma. 

He was the Huntsman.

That was what the Queen called him. She had taken his heart and used it to control him like a puppet, forcing him to do Her bidding. The tasks She laid out for him were never particularly strenuous or life-threatening, but he felt violated, nonetheless. Aside from clutching his heart, She never touched him. 

He once feared She would use him for Her twisted pleasure, but She never did. There had been a rough, dominating kiss after She’d claimed his heart, but the contact had stopped there. It still confused him. It had seemed to confuse Her as well, which made their relationship all the more puzzling. 

What was he to Her? A pet? Sometimes She would call him that, though it was rare. He was certainly not a lover. From what he’d seen, She had never welcomed a man into Her bed. In fact, She never welcomed anyone, save for a petite young mistress with hazel eyes and a head of gold. The girl’s name was unknown to him, though he didn’t particularly care to learn it. All he knew was that one cold winter day, the girl hadn’t arrived when the Queen summoned her. 

This had frustrated the Queen, who sent some of Her soldiers to the girl’s cottage, not far from the palace. They had returned only a few hours later, but the girl wasn’t with them. They spoke privately to the Queen in Her chamber. The Huntsman never did find out exactly what was said in that room. All he knew was that after this meeting, the Queen’s ever-present anger was snuffed out by an unrelenting sorrow. She grew distant. More reserved. She forbade anyone from entering Her room, for any reason. Even Her father. 

The Huntsman would often stand outside Her bedchamber at night and hear Her weeping openly in the darkness. At the time, he hadn’t reacted, as he had no heart. Now, however, it left an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach— one he felt could be filled only by eating. 

And so he ate. 

\---

When the time came for dessert, the Queen conjured up a plate of apple turnovers, each of them piping-hot and covered in cinnamon. Emma was the first to dive in. Henry seemed a bit hesitant, but eventually did bite into one. He appeared to enjoy it, as he continued eating it until he simply couldn’t anymore. The Huntsman didn’t touch the pastries. He was not one to eat sweets, and the last thing he needed was another reminder of the man he could never truly be. 

The Queen just sipped her wine in silence, watching the others with a warm smile on her face. She set her glass down when she saw the confused look on Emma’s face. 

“Something the matter, dear?”

Emma swallowed the last of her turnover. “How come you’re not having dessert?”

The brunette fought not to smirk. “It’s not apples I’m craving,” she said cryptically.

A pleasant rush of heat gathered between her thighs as she met Emma’s gaze. Their connection made it quite clear to her that the blonde was feeling this as well, seeing how an even deeper blush had spread across Emma’s cheeks. 

Henry was oblivious as he kept eating his turnover. The Huntsman, on the other hand, was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Having been raised by wolves, his nose was one of his greatest assets. He could smell a potent feminine arousal. The scent was overwhelming, wafting in the air around him. He stood abruptly, catching the others off-guard. 

“Must see Brother,” he grunted.

Regina simply nodded, perplexed, and waved her hand, allowing the barrier to extend into the backyard, in which the wolf appeared in a purple mist. She wouldn’t keep the Huntsman from visiting his wolf friend, but by no means would she allow the creature in her house. The second the Huntsman went outside, Henry turned to her expectantly.

“Can I get a dog?”

“No, darling.”

Henry frowned. “Why not?”

“Because, dear, having a dog is a big responsibility, and you’d have to take it outside whenever it needs to,” she paused and cleared her throat, “relieve itself. Not to mention, it will require lots of love and attention. It’s like raising a child, and I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, yet.”

Henry gave a slow nod as he contemplated this. “Okay,” he said, “then can I have a cat?”

Regina sighed. “No, Henry.”

“Why?”

“Because a cat is also a big responsibility,” said the Queen, “and because I’m allergic.”

“How about a goldfish?”

Regina thought about this for a moment. “Very well,” she relented, “but you have to feed it every day and clean its tank. I won’t be doing any of that for you. It’ll be your responsibility. Understand?”

Henry nodded. 

“Use your words, darling.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” The Queen waved her hand and smiled warmly at the boy. “Why don’t you go on up to your room and think of a name for your fish?”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Really? You mean it’s already up there?”

Regina nodded. “That it is.”

To her surprise and delight, Henry ran up to her and threw his arms around her, thanking her profusely. Her eyes glistened with joyful tears when he said he loved her. She returned his embrace gently.

“And I you, mi principito,” she murmured. 

Henry grinned. “So, is it a boy or a girl?”

“There’s one of each.”

Henry made his way through the living room and walked quickly up the stairs, knowing he wasn’t allowed to run in the house. He rushed towards his room and the second he stepped inside, he found a vibrant fish tank with two goldfish swimming around. His grin widened. He was already thinking of names. He settled on ‘Odysseus’ for the boy. Maybe the girl should be ‘Penelope,’ he thought. It was only fitting. Now, he just had to figure out which was which.

\---

After preserving all of the leftover food with her magic, Regina transported herself and Emma up to her bedroom, once again sealing the room with a barrier so that no one would hear them. She went to lock the door, and when she turned back around, she found Emma gaping at her from the bed. A smirk graced her lips and she folded her arms over her chest, successfully drawing her lover’s gaze to her breasts.

“See something you like?” she purred.

“God, you’re just so beautiful,” Emma whispered, “Those pants— your ass— just— wow.”

Regina chuckled softly as she approached the bed, actively stripping herself with the aid of her magic. Her smirk softened into a genuine smile as she climbed up onto the bed, hovering over her blushing lover and kissing the blonde ever so gently. 

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, “I wore them just for you.”

This drew a quiet moan from Emma’s lips.

“I was hoping to hear you moan like that again. You really seemed to enjoy dinner, just as you enjoyed your dessert,” the brunette husked, “but now, Emma, I’d like to make you dessert, if you don’t mind.”

Emma let out a shaky breath. “I definitely don’t mind,” she rasped. She groaned when she felt Regina’s tongue meet her core. “Oh, God, that feels so fucking good!”

Regina stared up at her with a look of mirth. “I’m not God, darling.”

Another groan from the blonde. “You are to me.”

\---

Later, the two of them were curled together beneath the warm covers, their fingers intertwined. Emma had her head resting in the space between Regina’s neck and shoulder, smiling softly as the brunette stroked her hair absently. 

“Regina?” she whispered.

“Yes, my love?”

A light blush spread over Emma’s cheeks. “I love hearing you say that,” she confessed. 

There was a pause as she sat up to look Regina in the eye. Her smile remained, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“I— how—” 

She sighed heavily, unsure how to proceed.

Regina sat up as well, still hooking their fingers together. “What is it, Emma? You can tell me,” she murmured. She could feel Emma’s pain, and she knew she needed to help the blonde fight through it. 

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s just,” she paused as her eyes welled with tears, “How can you love me? I’m a freak. I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect, Regina. You don’t need someone like me ruining your life. You’re too good for a loser like me.”

Regina pulled the blonde into her arms, holding her close. “You listen to me, Emma Swan,” she said quietly, “You are not a freak. I don’t ever wish to hear you say such a thing ever again. Don’t even think it. That is a direct order from your Queen. Do you understand, my Knight?”

Emma hesitated. “Regina—” 

“No, Emma,” the Queen said firmly, “This is not up for debate. You’re hurting yourself when you say things like that. You’re also hurting me. Is that what you want? To hurt your beloved Queen?”

Emma hung her head in shame. “No,” she whispered. Regina lifted her chin, forcing her to look back up into those hypnotic brown eyes. 

“You are not a freak, Emma, and you’re wrong, you know. You do deserve me. Aside from Henry, you’re the only one who does,” the Queen said somberly, “It is I who doesn’t deserve either of you. I’m not perfect, my love. I have done terrible things. Unforgivable things. All for the sake of capturing your mother. You are not ruining my life. On the contrary, mi patito, you are making it better. You’re healing my heart. Helping me put it back together. You are not a loser. You’re a hero. You’re the Savior. My Savior. My brave Knight. My dearest love. My Emma.”

The Queen stroked Emma’s back gently as she wept openly onto her shoulder. She spoke softly, whispering sweet nothings into the blonde’s ear. 

“It’s alright, Emma. I’m here. Your Queen is here.”


	35. Chapter 35

Regina awoke with a jolt, panting heavily as she shot up in bed. The eerie red numbers on the clock told her it was exactly three in the morning. The Devil’s Hour. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She looked to her left and found Emma sleeping soundly on her stomach. The Queen sighed and went to lie back down, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t go back to sleep. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she had the sudden urge to head up to the attic.

Her blood ran cold at that realization, and her heart started beating even faster. Why did she want to go anywhere near that awful place? How could she even get inside? It was bricked up. She shook her head when it occurred to her that she had magic. She could just teleport, which was precisely what she did, but not before sneaking one last glance at her slumbering lover.

She appeared in the attic in a plume of purple smoke. Pale moonlight seeped in through the cracks between the rotting boards nailed over the window. The air was hot and stuffy, having been closed off for so long, yet she could feel goosebumps rising on her skin. Her blood was like ice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even been in this awful place. Undoubtedly years before He strung Himself up in the rafters. 

She shook her head. He hadn’t actually hung Himself. That was just how the Mayor remembered it. In reality, she’d gotten the Genie to unleash the vipers on Him. Like a rope, the vipers had bitten into His skin and tightened around His throat, cutting off all circulation and ending His insufferable existence in the blink of an eye. 

Sometimes she wondered if she had been too merciful. He deserved far more than He received, but there was no need to dwell on such things. It was all in the past. She looked around at all the dusty trunks stacked against the walls. As the Mayor, she had believed them to be His things, and so she hadn’t dared touch them, knowing exactly what would happen to her if she did. 

But now, as the Queen, she didn’t give a damn. She flicked her wrist, and all the trunks floated down to the floor, opening to reveal a myriad of items she now recognized as mystical, in some form or another. Dozens of old scrolls and spell-books, various wands, a voodoo doll or two, and a number of other peculiar things. What really caught her eye was the book with the heart-shaped ruby encrusted in the front cover. Her heart was suddenly in her mouth. This was her mother’s spell-book. 

Before she could truly react, she caught a glimpse of something glistening in her peripheral. She turned to find an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. Not just any mirror, but the one she had kept in her chamber back in the palace. How had it gotten there? It certainly wasn’t before. The Mayor had never possessed such a mirror. She half-expected the face of the Genie to appear within it, but she had no idea where that sniveling rat could be. Probably hiding out in a hole somewhere. It only took her a moment to realize that she didn’t care.

She was not met with the face of the Genie, but rather, that of the Dark One. He looked so much different without all that glitter on his reptilian face, but his eyes were the same. Cold. Calculating. Cruel. The memories of what he did to her— what he forced her to do— came flooding back into her mind like a raging river of remorse. Her fists tightened and she bared her teeth in hatred and disgust. 

“What the hell do you want?” she hissed.

The smirk on his thin lips only fueled her anger. She wanted so badly to punch him in his smug face, but she knew that wouldn’t do her any good. He wasn’t really here. Taking a swing at him would only get her a fistful of glass. 

“No need for hostility, Dearie,” he told her, “I only want to talk.”

“Kiss my ass,” the Queen spat, “I have nothing to say to you, imp.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be rude.”

“You shut your mouth!” Regina sneered. Her eyes had begun welling with tears. “Why the hell should I listen to anything you have to say? After what you made me do? You’re a monster!”

“I thought you were better than this, Your Majesty,” the Dark One taunted, “You should be grateful. Because of me, you’ve gotten everything you could possibly want. Power. A child. Love.”

“You made me kill my father!”

The man’s smirk stretched into a sinister grin. “Oh, but wasn’t it worth it?” 

Regina let out a cry of fury as she hurled a ball of fire at the mirror. It quickly dissipated, but before it did, the dancing flames made the Dark One’s face that much more terrifying. He let out a quiet laugh— not his signature giggle— but a cold, dark laugh that chilled the Queen’s very soul.

“Get the hell out of here,” she seethed.

“Oh, I intend to do just that, Dearie,” said the Dark One, “I’d like to make a deal.”

“Absolutely fucking not—”

She froze when the man held up a familiar top-hat. 

“Do you recognize this?” he asked.

Regina could only nod. 

“I thought you might. How would you like to escape this place? You and your little family can all live safely— happily— in another realm, far, far away from Snow White and her followers.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? Why would you offer me something like that? What do you get out of it?”

The Dark One’s grin grew even wider. “I know you gathered your potions from the cemetery,” he said, “I want you to make a potion that will allow me to leave town. Safely.”

“That’s all?”

The man nodded. “That’s all.”

“Why don’t you just use the hat?”

“Because, Dearie, magic doesn’t exist outside of Storybrooke. Who knows where the hat would take me? Certainly not where I wish to go.”

“And where might that be?”

“Somewhere,” the Dark One said cryptically, “Now then, do we have a deal?”

“So if I make you a potion, you’ll give me the hat?”

“You have my word.”

Regina hesitated, not knowing if this was the right decision. She knew she shouldn’t trust the imp, but the thought of leaving Snow White behind in this strange land was incredibly tempting. Even more so was the idea of living peacefully with Emma and Henry. Her face softened as she contemplated all this, though it quickly reverted to a mask of anger and shock. 

“You,” she whispered, “You killed Jefferson.”

“That I did,” said the Dark One.

“Why?!”

“Didn’t realize you cared, Your Majesty.”

“Answer me!”

“He was trying to break the curse, and I couldn’t have that. I needed you and the Savior to break it with True Love’s Kiss, that way I could use it to bring magic here.”

“Of course that was you,” said the Queen, “How did you do it?”

“By using your blood, of course! It was riddled with your combined magic.”

“My blood? How did you— oh. Right. Of course you were there, lurking in the trees. How did I not sense you?”

“Perhaps you were too busy bleeding to death. Tell me, Your Majesty. How did it feel, dying in the arms of your True Love?” the Dark One asked mockingly.

Regina turned away, hugging herself tightly as she fought back her tears. She wasn’t afraid of Death. She hadn’t been for some time. It was the thought of leaving her family behind that terrified her. She wasn’t going to die on them. Not if she could help it. Emma’s magic had preserved her body just as she took what she believed would be her last breath. Her magic, in turn, had combined with her lover’s and ultimately healed her. She was still alive because of Emma. 

She owed everything to the blonde. She could imagine the two of them living together in a small cottage along the beach— just like Emma wanted— gathering shells from the salty waves with Henry and enjoying each other’s company, sipping cocoa by the fire. They would be safe. They would be happy. They would be together. 

She slowly turned back to face the Dark One and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a deal,” she whispered.


	36. Chapter 36

When Regina reappeared in her bedroom hours later, exhausted, she found Emma sitting up in bed with the lamp on, looking worried. The blonde was hugging herself, clearly having been crying. Regina was at her side in a heartbeat, cupping her face gently. 

“Emma?” she murmured, “What is it, my love?”

Emma met the brunette’s eyes slowly. Tears were streaking her reddened face. Her lips trembled as she spoke.

“I— I was having a nightmare,” she sobbed, “I couldn’t find you. It was dark. So dark. I kept calling your name, but you wouldn’t answer. It scared me, and then I woke up. I thought you could help me feel better, but you weren’t here, either, and I was freaking out. I had to turn on the lamp to help me calm down.”

Regina pulled Emma into a tight embrace, holding her close. With the connection they had, the Queen could feel the heartbreak and the anguish that her lover was enduring. Emma was terrified. Terrified of being alone. She was afraid that Regina had abandoned her.

And that left a tear in the Queen’s heart.

“I’m here, Emma. I’m right here. Everything’s alright now. I promise. I will never abandon you, my love. Know that if I’m not by your side, I won’t be far. I will always be here for you when you need me. I’m so sorry, mi patito. It was not my intention to frighten you. I would never dream of doing that.”

Emma gave a small nod, sniffling. “W-What does that mean, exactly?”

“What? ‘Mi patito?’”

Another nod.

Regina smiled softly, murmuring into the blonde’s ear, “My little duck.”

Emma blinked in confusion. “Little duck?”

“Yes, my darling. A little duck, who grew into a beautiful swan.”

A faint smile tugged at Emma’s lips. “You know, that’s actually why I chose it. Swan, I mean. I didn’t exactly have a family name, so I picked my own.”

“And how fitting it is,” Regina whispered, kissing the blonde sweetly, “I love you, Emma. More than you can imagine.”

Emma smirked. “I can imagine quite a bit.”

Regina shook her head in amusement. “Alright then, Captain Solo,” she said, “Let’s put you in the cargo hold.”

The blonde chuckled softly, slipping her arms around Regina’s shoulders as she returned the kiss. They fell under the sheets together in a spooning position, their fingers intertwined as they enjoyed one another’s company.

“I love you, too,” Emma rasped, “my Queen.”

They lied there in comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity, before the brunette spoke. 

“Emma?”

“Hm?”

“If there was a way for me to return to my homeland, would you come with me?”

“You mean like fairytale land?”

“Most call it the Enchanted Forest,” said Regina, “Others call it Misthaven.”

“Are you telling me you found a way back?”

“Possibly.”

“Then yes,” said Emma, “The answer is yes.”

Regina kissed the back of the blonde’s neck, crying silently. “Thank you, Emma,” she murmured, “You don’t know how much that means to me.” 

She pulled Emma closer to her, listening contentedly to the blonde’s steady breaths. Soon, Emma was asleep, dreaming peacefully. Regina flicked her wrist and the lamp switched off, once again shrouding the room in darkness. She lied there, eyes wide open, as the Dark One’s words echoed in her mind. 

‘Oh, but wasn’t it worth it?’

She stared at the beautiful blonde with tearful eyes. Of course she was grateful to have Emma in her life. Henry, too. There would never come a day where she wished they weren’t around. She loved them so, so much. They meant everything to her. She just wished she hadn’t had to kill her own father. Then again, she hadn’t intended to. Rumple had forced her hand, but the guilt was still fresh in her mind, as was the look of hurt and betrayal she had witnessed in her father’s eyes as he collapsed. She felt blessed to have her family. She just wished her father was alive to see it. She knew he would be proud. This alone brought a smile to her face. 

She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Emma’s hand. She would handle the repercussions of her deal with the Dark One later. Right now, she was going to lie here next to her Knight, and she was going to dream. 

\---

She found herself in her bedchamber back at the palace. It looked the same, but there was something different about it. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The air was warm, as there was a fire dancing beautifully below the mantel. She was standing at the window, watching her breath fog up the cold glass. The earth was covered in snow. Normally, the sight of it would remind her all too well of her mortal enemy and put her in a sour mood, but not this time. Strangely enough, she felt at peace. She felt happy. It wasn’t until she heard a quiet rustling that she realized she wasn’t alone. 

She turned, and lo and behold, found a gorgeous blonde occupying her bed. She greeted the blonde with a soft yet somber smile, thinking for a moment— just one moment— that it was Mara. However, she quickly discovered that it was, in fact, Emma. Her smile widened as she approached the bed, clad in a white nightgown. She kissed her lover sweetly.

“Good morning,” she whispered. 

“Morning,” Emma mumbled, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand.

It was then that Regina realized Emma was wearing a silver wedding band with a beautifully-cut amethyst at the top. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it. She felt as though she had been robbed of breath. It was identical to the one on her own finger, she discovered. Tears welled up in her eyes, catching Emma off-guard.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Regina shook her head. “Happy tears, darling,” she assured.

Emma smiled. “Well, that’s good, then,” she said, “but what’s got you all emotional, huh?”

“Just looking forward to the future, is all. I love you, Emma Swan.”

The blonde chuckled softly. “That’s Emma Swan-Mills, thank you very much,” she teased.

Regina stared at the woman in wonder. “You never cease to amaze me, mi patito.”

A blush spread over Emma’s cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself, mi Reina.” 

\---

When she awoke, Regina couldn’t help feeling just a tad disappointed that there wasn’t a ring on her or Emma’s finger. She looked out the window as the sunlight flooded in, making Emma’s hair shimmer like gold. A small smile graced her lips as she reminisced her pleasant dream. 

She knew that if they did return to the Enchanted Forest, they wouldn’t be living in her old palace. As nice as it was, there were too many dreadful memories there. She couldn’t bear the thought of setting foot in that miserable prison. Besides, if Snow White did somehow manage to follow them, the palace would be the most obvious place to search. No. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure no one ever found them. 

She envisioned her ideal cottage by the sea. The three of them would live in peace. They would have a garden to grow fruits and vegetables, and perhaps a cow. Maybe a hen or two. Certainly a horse. She had to at least have a horse. The cottage would be surrounded by trees, preferably those which would bear only the ripest of apples. In the spring, she would rest beneath a tree and write poetry while they all enjoyed a lovely picnic. In the winter, she would sit inside by the fire and recite those same poems while they all sipped cocoa. It would be as close to perfection as she could afford. The only thing missing would be her father. 

She was still exhausted, having spent hours up in that stuffy attic, working tirelessly to produce a potion for the sniveling imp. She had created three different samples, but according to the Dark One, none of them worked, so he hadn’t given her the hat. That was what infuriated her the most.

She was going to get that hat, and when she did, she and her family could live peacefully in their seaside cottage. They would all be together. They could be happy. They could be free.

And maybe— just maybe— she could finally muster up the courage to put a ring on Emma’s finger.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update. WARNING: Major character death! This was very difficult for me to write, but equally as important!

Regina gave the imp a fifth vial of potion nearly three hours ago, and he had yet to return to the mirror. A part of her was grateful, thinking she had succeeded in her task. At the same time, she felt increasingly on-edge. Would he really uphold his end of the deal? She wanted to believe him so badly, as she was desperate to get her hands on that hat. She wanted nothing more than to live in peace with her family. She supposed it didn’t matter where exactly they went. Just wherever the spoiled Princess and the Shepherd couldn’t find them. 

In the time she was waiting for a response from the Dark One, the Huntsman had expressed what Regina interpreted as a desire to leave the barrier, needing to return to the wilderness. She should have known he would want to leave sooner or later. He was more animal than human. She could tell he didn’t like being cooped up in the house. It probably made him feel trapped. She felt bad for him. Still, she was reluctant to let him out, having noticed just how well he and Henry were getting along. She was conflicted in her relationship with the man. 

When she was the Mayor, the Sheriff had been her only friend, but she wasn’t the Mayor anymore, and he certainly wasn’t the Sheriff. What was he to her? And her to him? She found it unlikely that he would consider her a friend, but an enemy? That was what puzzled her. His animosity towards her had begun to fade once she’d sealed them in the mansion, and seemed to have vanished almost completely after she brought that wolf into the mix. 

Perhaps he hadn’t tried to kill her because he was grateful. She wasn’t sure, and she doubted she ever would be. The Huntsman was feral. Unpredictable. There was no telling what was going through his primitive mind. Was he truly grateful to her? Did he know what it was to be grateful? Did he even know the meaning of the word? 

In the end, she did let him and the wolf slip away through a temporary break in the barrier, but warned him to be careful, and to avoid the streets. She told him that if he wasn’t back before dawn, the angry townsfolk might get to him. He had readily obliged, opting to disappear into the dark forest anyhow. The wolf followed him through the trees like a silver shadow. 

Regina watched them until the trees obscured her vision, and she returned to her room to find Emma’s clothes laid out on the bed. The bathroom door was ajar, providing privacy, yet also offering a subtle invitation into the steamy abode. With a sly smirk, she silently approached the bathroom door, having stripped completely. Just as she went to step inside, she paused. It was faint. She very nearly missed it, but she knew that what she was hearing was her Knight’s angelic voice. Her smirk softened into a genuine smile. 

Emma Swan was singing.

“…You’ve got a way to keep me on your side. You give me cause for love that I can’t hide. For you, I know I’d even try to turn the tide, because you’re mine. I walk the line.”

Regina stood there, astonished, until the song was over. Only then did she dare open the door. She pushed it open slowly, not wishing to startle the blonde. Emma blinked at her in surprise, just beginning to lather that gorgeous head of gold in apple-scented shampoo. A light brush crept onto Emma’s face. 

“I— I, uh, hope you don’t mind me using your shampoo. It just reminded me of you. I couldn’t resist.” Emma’s blush deepened when she saw the knowing smile on Regina’s perfect lips. “Y-You didn’t hear me singing, did you? Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out with my awful voice.”

Regina’s brows furrowed in what looked like hurt confusion. She slowly stepped into the shower and knelt down behind Emma, placing a comforting hand upon the woman’s shoulder. This prompted Emma to turn towards her.

“You mustn’t talk about yourself that way, my love,” she murmured, “You have a beautiful voice. I wish I could have heard it sooner.”

“You’re just saying that,” Emma muttered, unable to meet the Queen’s gaze.

Regina shook her head, gently lifting the blonde’s chin so that their eyes met. She offered a soft smile of reassurance. 

“No, Emma,” she said, “I mean it.”

Emma found no deception in the woman’s words. Even then, it was difficult for her to believe. She hugged herself tightly, letting the warm water and shampoo trickle down her back. This, in addition to the feeling of Regina pulling her into a loving embrace, brought her immense comfort. A small smile graced her lips.

“I love you, Regina,” she whispered. 

The Queen kissed her shoulder softly. “And I you, little duck.”

\---

The Huntsman was nearing the edge of town, now following after the wolf, who seemed determined to catch whatever it was after. Perhaps a nice stag to bring back for tomorrow night’s supper. If only he had his bow. That would make hunting much easier. It seemed he would just have to wrestle the beast to the ground so he could slit its throat with his dagger. He even thought about cutting out its heart just to taunt the Queen a bit. He shook his head in confusion. No. That was something Graham Humbert might have done, but he was not Graham Humbert. He was the Huntsman. He was not capable of humor. He had seen others laugh, though he himself had never had a reason to. Graham Humbert laughed often, but again, he was not Graham Humbert. He was the Huntsman.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw the wolf dart off towards the street. He froze in fear, remembering the Queen’s warning.

“Return, Brother!” he grunted, “Return, now!”

But the wolf kept running. 

Exasperated, the Huntsman gave chase. He tried and failed to call the wolf back to him. It seemed the creature was being lured towards something, like a moth to a flame. What that ‘something’ was, the Huntsman did not know, but he was truly afraid to find out. For a moment— just one moment— he thought he may have been overreacting. Surely it was nothing. He couldn’t hear or see anyone. He couldn’t smell them, either. 

Aside from the pale moonlight shining down through the trees in patches, the forest was completely dark. He could hear nothing but the violent pounding of his heart, and ironically enough, he found himself wishing it wasn’t currently in his chest. All he could smell was the sweat pouring down his brow. 

He sprinted through the darkness after the wolf, until finally, he was standing in the middle of the black road, panting heavily as he looked around for the silver beast. It was nowhere in sight. This puzzled him. He had been right behind the wolf. Where could it have gone? How could it have just disappeared? It didn’t make sense! 

He whistled, but the wolf did not respond to his summons. His eyes widened when he heard the crunching of leaves, and he swiftly grabbed the dagger from his boot, looking up to find none other than the Dark One walking towards him with the wolf at his side. The Huntsman frowned in confusion, glancing warily between the old man and the wolf. 

“Dark One,” he said, panting, “No trouble. Only seeking Brother.”

The Dark One merely nodded and retrieved something from his pocket. He raised his hands over his head when he saw the Huntsman aim the knife at him in warning. In his right hand was a glass vial, full of a mysterious blue liquid. 

The Huntsman’s frown deepened. “Explain,” he huffed.

“This, Huntsman,” said the Dark One, “is a potion that should allow me to leave town. However, it looks like you need it far more than I do.”

He handed the vial to the Huntsman, who bared his teeth at it in disgust. 

“Smells like poison.”

“I assure you, Dearie, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“Why the Huntsman? Why does Dark One not drink it?”

The Dark One stared back at the Huntsman with an unreadable expression. “Because,” he said quietly, “I’m not the one with the entire town after me.”

The Huntsman gasped, looking up to see dozens upon dozens of angry townsfolk charging towards him like a stampede of furious wildebeests. His eyes were no wider than the moon and his heart was suddenly in his mouth. He felt the Dark One force the vial into his hand, drawing his gaze towards the man’s cold eyes.

“Drink it,” the Dark One said firmly, “Drink it and run. Run as fast as you can, past the old sign. They won’t be able to follow you. Go! Go, now!”

Seeing that the mob was growing closer, the Huntsman looked back at the Dark One, only to find that the man had up and disappeared. The wolf stared up at him curiously, tilting its head in innocent confusion. He ripped the cork from the vial and threw his head back as he downed its contents. He gagged at the bitter taste, but didn’t hesitate to throw down the vial and bolt towards the sign reading ‘Leaving Storybrooke.’ The glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces against the wet asphalt.

“There he is!” screamed Snow White, “The traitor!”

“Kill him!” shouted a man.

It sounded like one of the dwarves. The Huntsman wasn’t sure which. He had never been able to keep up with their ridiculous names. All he knew was that the second he reached the sign, he felt an arrow pierce his back. It went straight through his heart and out the front of his chest. The thundering stopped the moment he hit the ground, just on the other side of the rusty sign.

For a moment, everything was black. 

His eyes snapped open. It suddenly occurred to him that he was in agonizing pain. Worse yet, he couldn’t breathe. He stared at the bloody arrowhead in horror as it protruded from his chest. He gasped for air, but none ever came. He reached for his inhaler with a trembling hand, but was mortified to find it missing. He reached for his belt to retrieve his radio, but it, too, was missing. His vision became increasingly blurry. 

The lack of oxygen must have been fucking with his brain, because for a moment, he swore he saw Mary Margaret Blanchard— the innocent, mousy schoolteacher— glaring at him with a bow in her hands. What the hell was going on? Where was the cruiser? Where was his belt? What were all these people doing here? More importantly, what was he doing here? And by God, why was there an arrow sticking through him?!

The townspeople were all glaring at him, he realized. They were glaring at him like he was the absolute scum of the Earth. He stared at them with wide eyes, pleading silently for help, but they just stood there, watching him writhe and gasp upon the cold, wet asphalt. Watching him bleed to death, like a bunch of savages. It was as though they weren’t human. 

He panicked when he saw a silver wolf moving towards him with its head down as if in shame. He held his hand out so as to try and stop it from coming any closer, but the creature seemed to interpret this as a friendly gesture, as it pressed its snout against his cold, trembling hand and whimpered like a frightened pup. 

He truly didn’t know what to make of this, but for reasons he couldn’t fathom, he found an odd sense of comfort in the wolf’s presence. Its eyes were mismatched. One black as night, the other a piercing red. It was unnatural. Almost unnerving. Yet somehow familiar. 

The wolf licked his hand as if in greeting, whimpering as it lied down in front of him with its head flat against the ground. It was almost like the creature was trying to shield him from the angry townsfolk. 

“I say we finish him off!” shouted Leroy. 

This horrified him. He knew Leroy didn’t exactly like him, which wasn’t surprising, as drunks and cops tended not to see eye to eye, but he never expected something like this! Something so— so— heartless! 

“No,” said Mary Margaret. Her voice was quiet, but her words were laced with venom. “Let him suffer. He deserves it. Godforsaken traitor.” She turned away in fury. “May he rot forever in Hell!”

The others seemed to share this sentiment, as they threw up their fists in barbaric celebration. The dying man watched this with tears in his eyes, unable to move. Unable to cry out. Unable to breathe. Once more, the silver wolf whimpered, continuously licking his face as if to keep him conscious. 

Soon, the angry crowd was gone. Where they were going, he had no idea, but the thought terrified him. He was dying. They had done this to him. They had stood and watched, doing nothing to help him. And in the end, they abandoned him there in the middle of the street. They turned their backs on him. He wanted to believe it was in shame or in cowardice, but he would never know for sure. 

In his final moments, he saw a single figure stepping out of the woods. They approached slowly— silently— and when he blinked the tears from his eyes, he realized it was Mr. Gold. This came as even more of a shock. What was Mr. Gold doing here? And where was his cane? 

The wolf stood suddenly, snarling and growling viciously at the old man, who seemed completely unfazed by this. Mr. Gold stared down at the dying man with an unreadable expression. 

“Forgive me, Huntsman.”

The dying man frowned. His quivering lips parted as if to protest, but no words ever came. The troubled look on his face said more than words ever could. What was the old man on about? Huntsman? Had Henry gotten everyone in on the cruel joke? He wasn’t some Huntsman! He was the Sheriff! Sheriff Graham Humbert—

The old man pulled a pistol from inside his coat and put a bullet between the dying man’s eyes. As he walked away, the wolf sat before the dead man and lifted its head towards the night sky, howling at the moon in lament.

\---

Regina’s eyes flew open and she rushed over to the window, placing her hands against the glass in startled confusion. Emma stirred with a groan and blinked at her with tired eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

Regina hesitated. “I— I don’t know. I thought I heard a wolf.” 

She shook her head. That couldn’t be right. The barrier kept out any and all sounds. There was no way she’d heard howling. She must have been dreaming, though what she was dreaming of, she could no longer remember. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Emma, settling back under the warm covers, content.

Regina pursed her lips. “Of course.”

\---

Across town, the Dark One stepped into his living room and switched on the antique radio above the mantel, sitting silently in his padded chair. The glow of the dancing flames burned in his frigid eyes. He wrung his hands apprehensively, unsure what to do next. To his surprise, the radio suddenly switched stations, and what he heard made his stomach sink.

‘I shot the Sheriff, but I did not shoot the Deputy….’

He rose quickly and grabbed the radio with quivering hands, hurling it into the fire. It sparked and popped, but after a few moments, there was silence. Even the fire ceased to crackle. The room suddenly felt cold, despite the dancing flames. 

Death hung in the air.


	38. Chapter 38

When Emma awoke, she found Regina standing at the window, staring out into the yard with an unreadable expression.

“What’s going on? Is the mob back?”

Regina couldn’t bring herself to meet Emma’s gaze. Her eyes were fixated on whatever was out there. Her voice was laced with what sounded like dread.

“It’s the wolf,” she said quietly.

Emma carefully climbed down out of bed with the wooden stool Regina had provided, and shuffled over to the window to peer outside. The wolf was in the yard, sitting there in silence and staring up at them almost expectantly. 

“How did it get out of the barrier?”

“The Huntsman said he wanted to get some fresh air, so I let him and the wolf out last night,” rasped the Queen, “but it seems he still hasn’t returned.”

Emma looked up at the brunette in concern. “You don’t think…?”

Regina shook her head. “I don’t quite know what to think.” 

She turned away from the window and waved her hands, dressing herself with her magic. She donned a dark coat, gloves, and a long black scarf. Emma quickly hobbled after her.

“W-Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find him,” Regina told her, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him. I think the wolf wants me to follow it.” 

Emma gripped her sleeve. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, Emma, it’s too dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Emma’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t want you getting hurt, either. Please, Regina, don’t make me stay behind. I have to know that you’re safe.”

Regina knelt down and pulled Emma into a tight embrace. “I’ll be fine, my love,” she murmured, “I promise.”

“What if they find you?”

“They probably will,” said Regina, “but I have magic now. I can defend myself if I need to. I just need to know where the Huntsman is.”

Emma nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” she said at last, “I love you, Regina.”

The Queen smiled, kissing the blonde gently. “And I you, sweet Emma.”

\---

Regina was currently standing at the edge of town, staring down at the Huntsman’s body in utter horror and disbelief. The wolf nudged her hand with its snout and whimpered, as if pleading with her to do something— anything— to save its human brother. She gently stroked the creature’s head in an attempt to comfort it. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her eyes grew wet with tears. Her stomach had long-since sunk. She was overwhelmed with guilt. If she hadn’t let the Huntsman out of the barrier, none of this would have ever happened. It was her fault. Because of her, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was well-aware of whose arrow was sticking through him, though she was unsure about the bullet in his head. 

Perhaps that little bitch had felt guilty for using her bow on him and decided to put him out of his misery. This enraged the Queen. Snow White had proven, yet again, just how little she cared for the wellbeing of others. How cruel. She had murdered the man who so graciously spared her life. Killed him in cold blood. Shot him like a dog in the street. She hadn’t even bothered to bury him. 

The Huntsman’s eyes were still wide with terror, and that was the worst of it all. Regina bent down so as to close them, but was startled by the sound of the Dark One’s voice.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Your Majesty.”

The Queen gasped as she spun around, slapping a hand over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion and hatred. 

“What the hell do you want? Here to rejoice in my suffering?”

The Dark One’s expression was unreadable. “No,” he said quietly, “I came to pay my respects.”

“You? Pay respects? Why?”

“Because, Dearie, the Huntsman did me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Regina snapped, “I swear, if you have anything to do with this—” 

“I gave him the potion,” the Dark One confessed, “I gave it to him so that he could escape town and outrun the mob. Unfortunately, Snow White shot him before he crossed the barrier.”

“And you just stood by and let it happen?!”

“Lower your voice,” said the old man, “I bore no ill will towards him, if that’s what you’re getting at. I wanted to help him.”

“No you didn’t,” the Queen hissed, “You just wanted to use him like a fucking lab-rat! That’s sick! He was a person, Rumple! A human being!”

“Yes, I’m aware,” said the Dark One, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I would genuinely wish to help someone?”

“Because you’re the fucking Dark One! You don’t help people unless it benefits you. That isn’t ‘helping!’ That’s manipulation! Typical you!”

“Since when do you have the moral high ground?” the old man asked accusingly, “Do you think that just because you found your True Love that you’re magically absolved of all sins? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Dearie.”

Regina sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, the imp was right. She hugged herself tightly, unable to meet the Dark One’s icy gaze. 

“I am sorry,” he said softly, “You don’t have to believe me, if you don’t want to, but I truly am. I must admit, I was curious to see if the potion worked, but my desire to help him was far stronger.”

“I guess you got your answer,” the Queen said bitterly.

“He did cross through,” said the Dark One, “but the moment he did, something changed in him. He seemed frightened. Confused.”

Regina scoffed. “Of course he was! He was dying in the middle of the street with an angry mob behind him! Why wouldn’t he be afraid?”

“You misunderstand me. I mean he seemed like a completely different person. I felt a shift in his aura. I can’t be certain, but I suspect he may have reverted back to the Sheriff.”

Regina’s eyes widened in disbelief as she met the old man’s unreadable gaze. “You mean when he died, he was—” 

“Graham Humbert.”

“Gods above,” rasped the Queen, “have mercy on his soul.” She ran her hands through her hair, sobbing openly. “What am I going to tell Henry? What will I tell Emma? That the Huntsman is dead? That it’s my fault? What do I do, Rumple?”

She couldn’t believe she was asking the Dark One for help, after all he’d done to her. Then again, she couldn’t believe she had agreed to make his stupid potion, but she desperately needed that hat. She needed to escape from this world. As long as Snow White was around, she would never find peace. She caught a flicker of— something— in the Dark One’s eyes. For a moment, she thought it might have been guilt, but it had happened too quickly to know for sure.

The Dark One held out his hand, conjuring up a small plume of crimson mist. When it cleared, Regina found Jefferson’s hat resting in the man’s palm. Her brows furrowed as she stared at him in confusion. 

“You’re giving me the hat?” she asked, “But, I thought you said the potion—” 

“You fulfilled your end of the bargain,” said the Dark One, “You made a potion that would allow whoever drank it to leave town. The loss of memory was unexpected, but I know you aren’t to blame. Take the hat. Take your family somewhere far from this place. You deserve it, after all you’ve been through.”

“Since when do you care about my happy ending?”

“Do you honestly believe that I didn’t care? Why do you think I gave you the curse?”

Regina’s frown deepened. “So you could torment me. So you could make me kill my own father.”

“That was never the reason. I wished it didn’t have to be that way, you know. I never would have done that to you if it wasn’t necessary,” the Dark One told her, and for once, she believed him. “I wanted you to get your happy ending, Your Majesty. You thought it was Snow White’s head on a platter, and I’m sure it still very much is, but that’s only a fragment. True happiness lies with your family. With the Savior and your boy.”

To Regina’s surprise, the old man suddenly took hold of her hand, clutching it tightly. There was pain in his eyes. They gleamed with unshed tears, something she never imagined she would see.

“Keep them close,” he said quietly, “You’ll never truly know how much they mean to you until you lose them.”

Regina scowled. “Is that a threat?” 

“No,” said the Dark One, “Merely a word of advice. Good luck, Regina.”

And then he was gone.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been busy with college and other things.

Henry wept openly into the Queen’s shoulder as she held him, having just relayed the news of the Huntsman’s death. The boy was visibly hurt by this, not only because of the tragedy, but because it had been carried out by none other than Snow White.

“How could she do that?!” he cried, “She’s supposed to be good!”

Regina stroked his back gently in an effort to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Henry,” she murmured, “It’s my fault he’s dead. This never would have happened if I hadn’t let him out. I am so, so sorry.”

“No!” Henry argued, “It’s not your fault! You were just doing what he asked! You didn’t kill him! Snow White did! She tried to kill you, too!”

This came as a shock to the brunette. After all the time he had spent accusing her of being evil— not that his claims had been unfounded— he was now defending her in the wake of the Huntsman’s death. Even with Henry placing his trust in her, she couldn’t stop feeling guilty. She may not have put that arrow through the Huntsman, but if she hadn’t let him out of the barrier, it never would have happened. She hugged Henry tightly, thinking back to what the imp had said. 

‘You’ll never truly know how much they mean to you until you lose them.’

In her desperation to get the hat, she hadn’t once stopped to think that perhaps the Huntsman was a part of her family, as well. She regretted what she’d done to him. She had taken his heart. Controlled him like a puppet. There had been a time when she considered dominating him, and that had truly terrified her, even in her darkest days. 

For a moment, she’d thought about doing to the Huntsman what the King had done to her, just to vent her rage, perhaps, but the mere notion made her physically ill. She never could bring herself to do it. Instead, she forced him to do menial tasks. Guard the corridor, pour her wine at the table, and that sort of thing. 

She had never taken advantage of him the way the King had. She would never dream of doing that to someone. Besides, she had already promised herself she would never lie with another man as long as she lived. Plus, she’d had Mara. 

Sweet Mara. Innocent, softhearted Mara. The girl was timid, only speaking when spoken to. She was also submissive, something the Queen found especially endearing. Mara was beautiful, and the Queen often told her as much, though she never seemed to believe it. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Emma Swan. No one could be that beautiful. 

Still, every time the Queen looked at Emma, she saw traces of her former lover in the blonde’s features. She wanted to think it was merely a coincidence, but she couldn’t be completely sure. Like Emma, Mara had been an orphan. The girl never knew her true family. She was alone. She’d had nothing— no one— until the Queen took her in. 

It was different with Emma, of course. Emma wasn’t a young woman living in a barbaric world— well, actually, that wasn’t far from the truth. At least, not currently. Not while there was a murderous mob out parading through the streets in search of blood. 

As much as Regina wished she could be in two places at once, she wasn’t aware of such a spell. She was going to do her best to console Henry for now. She would check on Emma momentarily. The blonde had gone up to their room after hearing the grim news. 

Wait. 

Their room? This left a spark of warmth in her heart, though she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Not now. Not when she had the Huntsman’s blood on her hands and a crying boy in her arms. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Henry sobbed.

“We’re going to leave this place,” Regina explained quietly, “We’re going to return to the Enchanted Forest. We’re going to live in peace. We’re going to be a family.”

Henry sniffed. “Really? W-What about the Huntsman?”

“I’m taking him with us. I want to give him a proper burial.”

“What about the wolf? Is he coming, too?”

Regina offered a somber smile. “Of course he’s coming, Henry.”

“Does he have a name?”

“The wolf?”

Henry nodded. 

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Regina, “The Huntsman only ever called him ‘Brother.’”

“How did he learn to talk?” asked Henry, “I know he was raised by wolves. Who taught him to speak English?”

“Well, it isn’t actually English, dear. There is no ‘England’ back home, you see, but I suppose he just picked it up while he was among the villagers,” the brunette replied, “Though I did have one of my scribes try and teach him our language.”

“What do you call it, then?”

Regina shrugged. “It doesn’t really have a name,” she explained, “It was the most commonly spoken language in all the realms. There was never a need to distinguish it from the rest.”

“So there were more, then?”

“Of course, but very few. My father’s ancestors were from a land called the Isle of the Magi. They spoke a language similar to Spanish, though it was sacred to them. They spoke it only to each other. Daddy taught it to me in secret. He didn’t want Mother finding out, not just because it was sacred, but because she would have punished us both if she knew.”

Henry frowned. “Why would she punish you?”

Regina hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Because, dear, she didn’t want either of us living like ‘savages.’ We were to conform to the ways of the Enchanted Forest so as to be presentable.”

“Why would she marry someone if she didn’t respect their culture? Didn’t she love him?”

“She wasn’t capable of love,” Regina said with just a hint of bitterness, “She had no heart. She didn’t marry my father because she loved him. All she cared about was power. She got it, of course, but it still wasn’t enough. She used me to get even more power. She used me to put herself higher on the social ladder.”

“Where is she now? Is she here?”

“Oh Gods, no,” said the brunette, “She’s been dead for a long time. She can’t hurt us.”

Henry blinked at her in confusion. “Did you say ‘Gods?’”

“Yes, darling. The people here believe in many different Gods. Some are prayed to more than others, but they are all worshipped. Every family has a patron deity.”

“What’s ours?”

“Well, I can’t exactly say we have one, considering you and Emma have never heard of them, but growing up, Daddy taught me all about the Gods. His family worshipped Cavilthura, the Sky Goddess. Each night, when I was a girl, he would bid me goodnight and we would pray together. He would pray for things like good fortune and a bit of rain for the crops.”

“What did you pray for?”

Regina hesitated. “Mother’s approval,” she said quietly.

\---

When Regina materialized in the bedroom to check on Emma, she found the blonde lying in bed with her back facing the door. The curtains were drawn, blocking out any and all sunlight. Regina studied her in concern. 

“Emma, sweetheart?” the brunette asked softly as she approached the bed. 

Emma reluctantly turned to face the Queen with tears in her eyes. They were completely bloodshot. It looked as if she’d been crying for hours. She was fumbling absently with the ornate rosary around her neck. Yet another wave of guilt washed over Regina, this one just as strong as the last. 

The Queen moved to sit next to Emma, allowing the blonde to rest her head in her lap. She stroked the golden tresses gently as fresh tears began to leak from her lover’s eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” she murmured. 

“She killed him,” Emma breathed, “Snow White. My mother. My own fucking mother! She left my friend to die in the middle of the fucking street!”

Regina was silent, allowing Emma to vent while she gathered her thoughts. 

“I hate her, Regina,” the blonde seethed, “I fucking hate her! She’s a monster!”

The Queen nodded. “That she is,” she said quietly, “She did far more than spill secrets.”

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat and she sat up to face the brunette. “Like what? Will you tell me?”

There was a long pause. 

“She will never admit it, but she has killed countless people. Innocent people. Not just Daniel or the Huntsman. She’s murdered children, Emma. Children! Babies! And she dares call me evil?! Not even I would take the life of a child! How cruel that she who slaughters the innocent can hold life in her womb! Yet it is I who cannot bear children!”

Dark tears streaked the Queen’s face. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Emma’s horrified gaze. 

“No one ever found out— not even Mother— but I was with child when I was sold to the King. It was Daniel’s child.”

“…What? Did you—”

“Have the baby?”

Emma could only nod.

Regina closed her eyes. “No,” she whispered, “Well, yes. I don't like to think about it. I don’t know how she knew, but somehow, Snow found out I was pregnant and informed her father.” She began to weep uncontrollably, clutching her stomach. 

“Regina?” Emma whispered.

“He forced me to drink a potion,” the brunette sobbed, “I went into an early labor. He took my child from me. He never did tell me what He did with it. I didn’t even get to hold it. I never learned its gender. It doesn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl, but it would be nice to know at least that much. The potion had a side-effect. No one knew about it until much later, but it left me barren. He took my child because it wasn’t His, but I would never be able to give Him one. So He started drinking. He started beating me.”

The Queen reluctantly met her lover’s eyes, and the second she did, she fell forward into the blonde’s arms. Emma was immediately overwhelmed with a torrent of pain and misery. It was by far the worst thing she had ever experienced, aside from the crippling agony she’d felt when Regina was dying in her arms. 

“Jesus, Regina, that’s— fuck— I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what that must feel like. I willingly gave Henry up. I mean, I’m glad you were the one to raise him, but I still feel so damn guilty for not even looking at him when I had the chance. And to think, you didn’t even have the opportunity. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweet Emma. None of this is your fault.”

“No, but it was my grandfather who did it, and my mother who made it happen. He can’t apologize because he’s dead. He probably wouldn’t, anyway. Snow won’t apologize because she’s a cold bitch. So I’m apologizing. That is sickening, Regina. No one should ever have to go through that. Not ever. That’s got to be the most twisted thing a person could possibly do. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. It makes me sick, just knowing I share blood with those— those monsters.”

The Queen stared at her Knight in awe. Her brave, sweet Knight, who would protect her at all costs, even from Snow White. The brunette clung tightly to her blonde lover as if never wanting to let go. 

“We’re going to leave this place, Emma. We’re going to be a family. You, me, and Henry,” she promised, “Oh, and the wolf.”

Emma let out a halfhearted chuckle. “And when will we be leaving?”

“Whenever you two are ready,” said Regina, “but first, there’s something I need to take care of.”

Emma didn’t need to ask what that ‘something’ was. She was certain she already knew the answer.


	40. Chapter 40

Regina materialized in her vault to make sure the Huntsman’s body had preserved the way it should have. She’d brought his body here, as it was only fitting, and she didn’t want to traumatize Emma or Henry by bringing a corpse into the house. This— in addition to the two other bodies being kept here— left her feeling nauseous. 

Her father’s casket was upstairs. He had long since decomposed, but the Huntsman wouldn’t follow suit until she gave him a proper burial. Daniel’s body was just in the next room, as she had discovered. This left her shaken, even now, having had no idea he’d been brought over. His body was completely intact. He almost looked like he was sleeping. Like he would wake up at any given moment. It was a blessing and a curse all at once. Had the Dark One done this as a sort of favor, or simply to torment her? It was impossible to tell.

Snow White had looked the same after biting into the cursed apple. 

Before the imp had forced her into doing the unthinkable, the Queen had berated herself for not just killing the little bitch, but now, knowing what she knew, she was glad she hadn’t. If she’d killed Snow, there would be no Emma, and if there was no Emma, there would be no Henry. 

She couldn’t bring herself to go back into that room. Not now. It was painful enough just thinking about it. She forced the thought to the back of her mind when she sensed someone approaching the vault. No. Not someone. A group— and a large one, at that. 

She panicked, thinking Snow had found her, and that the bitch might somehow figure out a way inside. However, when she transported herself back upstairs, she found herself face to face with a group of confused and frightened-looking men, women, and children. Ones she recognized from the villages close to her palace. This was no angry mob. These were her people. 

She materialized just outside of the barrier, and when she did, the men and women started to kneel, whispering for their children to do the same. She shook her head, holding up a hand in protest.

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” she said somberly.

The man closest to her looked up at her with uncertainty. “But, Your Majesty—” 

“No,” she said again, this time more firmly. “I don’t want you to kneel. I don’t deserve your respect.”

The group reluctantly rose back up, murmuring to one another in hushed confusion. Regina hugged herself tightly and bit her lip in remorse. She fought back tears as she scanned the crowd, meeting each and every one of their eyes. Within them, she found a blend of confusion and fear. It was a fear not of her, she realized, but of discovery. 

It was clear to everyone that after what happened to the Huntsman, Snow White was not the kind, loving Princess she claimed to be. They were afraid they would meet a similar fate, so they had come to their Queen for guidance and protection. 

“Please, Your Majesty,” said the man, “We need your help. I beg you, defend us from Snow White. She’s gone mad.” 

There was desperation in his voice. His eyes were a pale blue, brimming with unshed tears. He was clinging tightly to his wife and son, much like the rest of the group. He had tan, weathered skin and smooth, jet-black hair. Regina recognized him from her sporadic trips to Knife’s Head, the village closest to her palace. The village where Mara had lived.

“What is your name?” she asked quietly.

“Ander, Your Majesty,” said the man, “Ander Williamson.”

Regina gave a small nod. “Very well, Ander Williamson,” she said, “As your Queen, I shall do all that I can to protect you. All of you.” 

Anything else she might have said was cut off when Ander’s son pulled away from him and trotted over to her. 

Ander gasped. “Thomas!”

The boy approached the brunette with a joyful smile on his face. He had few teeth, which made it all the more precious in the Queen’s eyes. Physically, he couldn’t have been more than a year old, though if time hadn’t been frozen for all these years, he would have been a grown man. She mirrored the boy’s smile, as he was reminding her of Henry at that age. She carefully knelt down to greet the child. 

“Hello there, little one,” she said softly, “Thomas, I presume?”

She conjured a small, stuffed horse into her hand. The boy’s eyes lit up in wonder, making her smile widen. Few things brought her more happiness than seeing the joy on a child’s face. It was the embodiment of innocence, something she so dearly missed. She laughed quietly as he took the horse, squeezing it tightly to his chest. 

The crowd looked on in silent awe. They knew their Queen was a just ruler, but they had never seen such genuine compassion from anyone, not even Snow White. 

Regina watched Thomas with a fond smile as he made his way back towards his parents. Ander chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair playfully, meeting the Queen’s gaze with one of intrigue. He bowed his head to her in a show of respect. She was quick to return the gesture as she stood back up. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Ander, “If I may, I must say that you and you alone are worthy of respect. Snow White be damned.”

The rest of the group nodded and uttered their agreement. Men began lifting their children up into their arms and upon their shoulders so as to get a better view of the Queen. There was no denying that she had made mistakes— namely, her relentless pursuit of Snow White— but behind the crown, and behind the magic, she was only human. 

Aside from her vendetta with the coldhearted Princess, Regina had been a fair and just ruler. She outlawed prostitution as well as slavery in her kingdom, which led to the creation of more careers for her citizens, more laborers looking to earn an honest living, and hundreds, if not thousands, of free men, women, and children. Many of those former-slaves had come to find work in her palace as cooks, seamstresses, and handmaids. Others had joined her cavalry as either Knights or simple palace guards. 

As Queen, she had an abundance of food at her disposal each night. Unlike the King, she did not simply throw it all away. She had it sent out to the villages and divided equally among the families living there. She would not allow her people to starve. She made it legal to hunt in her woods, but only during certain times of the year. However, she outlawed the killing of wolves. 

After the King’s death, her first decree as a free woman was to explicitly forbid the abominable act of child marriage. In doing so, she declared the official age of consent to be eighteen. No exceptions. Arranged marriages would remain legal, but only if both parties found it acceptable. Her most controversial decree was easily the legality of Achillean and Sapphic relations. No longer would such affairs have to remain dirty secrets, though despite this change in the law, many of them did. This fact still saddened her.

All of her progress as Queen had been completely undone when Snow White took back the throne. Snow had each and every last one of the Black Knights detained, vowing to execute them unless they agreed to curse Regina’s name and pledge loyalty to the White Kingdom. 

None of them did. 

They were loyal only to Queen Regina. Besides, they weren’t foolish enough to believe that the White Princess would spare them, even if they did swear loyalty. It was better to die with dignity than in disgrace. They’d held their heads high when the Princess had them executed. Hell, they’d even smiled.

The palace cooks were left without jobs, as Snow feared they would try to poison her. When they protested, she’d had them silenced. As for the seamstresses and handmaids, they were ejected from the palace and sold back into slavery. The White Princess only cared for the people she could see. As far as she was concerned, her kingdom ended at the palace gates. If she was comfortable, then the entire kingdom had to be, as well. Everything had to be her way. Perfect. There could be not even a single hair out of place on her head. 

She would constantly ask Charming if she was the fairest of them all, and he would constantly tell her that she was so. Once— only once— he hesitated to respond, so she’d laced his wine with a bit of Devil’s Snare. 

He had screamed in terror, seeing and hearing things that were never there. What those things were, she had no idea. Not that she cared. All she knew was that her husband believed the Gods were angry with him for his insolence. The reason he believed this, of course, was that she had suggested it while his psyche was being altered. Never again did he hesitate to tell her just how beautiful she was, though there was fear in his eyes each time he did. Seeing that fear never failed to bring a smile to her face.

Yes, she wanted— no, needed— perfection. She would have the perfect kingdom, the perfect clothes, the perfect meals, the perfect husband, and the perfect child. She had grown ill halfway through her pregnancy. The sickness, whatever it was, very nearly killed her, but thanks to the Blue Fairy, she survived. Unfortunately, it might as well have taken her life, because she’d been quite tempted to do just that when she discovered her child was far from perfect. 

What good was a daughter with no legs? The child would be a stain on the White name. The kingdom would never prosper with an abomination as its ruler. Hell, even the Evil Queen would make a better leader than this misshapen mutant! It was at that point that she began to wonder if the Gods had actually been angry with her for the way she’d treated her husband. Was this her punishment? A broken child? 

Her child was supposed to grow up to become the Savior, but how could that possibly happen when it had no legs? She had already given the girl a room, a blanket, and a name, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the wailing child. When she received word that the Dark Curse was coming, Snow forced the swaddled baby into the arms of her spineless husband and ordered him to put the girl in the enchanted wardrobe. She’d expected the Queen to arrive in a blaze of fury, gloating as the black clouds swallowed them up. 

But the Queen never came. 

She had awoken one morning, believing she’d had a horrific dream. She got up, got dressed for work, made fresh coffee, and walked from her apartment to the school, just like she did every day. Only after the curse had broken did she realize that the past twenty-eight years had been the dream. She found herself wishing she was still asleep. The dream was far better than the reality.

\---

Following her defeat at the hands of Snow White, the once-powerful Queen was forced to go into hiding with her father. They’d ventured up into the frozen mountains to seek shelter with her dear friend, Maleficent, in the Forbidden Fortress. Despite its name, it was the safest place for them. 

Or so she thought. 

Her relationship with Maleficent had been rocky following their fight over the Dark Curse, but she’d confided in the Dragoness that she no longer wished to cast it, having learned the terrible price she would have to pay. They had reconciled soon after. 

Alas, their friendship— and her father— had been ripped away from her when the imp forced her to pay that harrowing price anyhow. She’d had everything taken from her. Daniel. Mara. Her innocence. Her self-respect. Her happiness. Her kingdom. Her crown. Her friend. Her father. 

She was the first to be swallowed up by the Dark Curse. Next had been the lifeless body of her father, followed quickly by Maleficent. She had never seen the woman so terrified. The thought was painful, though not nearly as excruciating as the memory of her father’s face. His mouth had been agape in a gasp that never came. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion. But not betrayal. Never betrayal. She hadn’t wanted to do it. Never would she have dreamt of harming that kind, sweet man. He was her lifeline. Her anchor. He was the only thing keeping her from casting that damned curse. 

How tragic that the imp had made her cast it anyway. 

She had lost so much, but it was impossible not to think about what she’d gained. She had True Love, with whom she shared a child. For a while, she believed that was enough, but now that she had her people coming to her for help, she almost felt whole again. Seeing the hope in her people’s eyes sparked something deep within her soul.

Determination.

For the first time in twenty-eight years, she stood with her back straight, her shoulders back, and her head held high. She scanned the crowd carefully. There was a fire alight in her smoldering eyes. 

“Who among you can fight?” she asked. 

Her voice was powerful. Confident. Even a little intimidating to some, though their admiration for her only grew stronger.

Most of the men, as well as a handful of women, stepped forward. Ander was one of them. The Queen smiled. She knew she’d seen a warrior when she looked at him. He was far too muscular to be anything else. 

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“It’s likely,” said Ander, “Snow White, she speaks to the birds. They’re probably informing her as we speak.”

The Queen nodded. “Yes, probably so. Are any of you proficient in archery?”

Again, it was mostly men who proved to be archers, though there was one woman among them. Studying them closely, the Queen realized they had all been a part of her cavalry. They were the few who had escaped execution. She always made a point of it to learn the names and faces of her soldiers. Her memory was still a bit hazy, however, so their names were slipping her mind for the time being. She was sure she would remember them soon enough. 

“Alright,” she said, “Here’s the plan.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Haven't had much time to write the past few days.

Ander had been right in assuming the birds had spoken with Snow. By the time the Queen appeared in the middle of Main Street, the merciless Princess was already waiting there with the mob. The two women locked eyes. 

Snow scoffed. “You honestly think you can take us out all by yourself? Even with your magic, you can’t fight an entire army!”

Regina folded her arms in defiance. “That’s funny, considering half of your ‘army’ was actually my cavalry.”

The Princess immediately released her arrow, but to her horror, the Queen caught it with her bare hand. The mob gasped, whispering fearfully amongst themselves. A sly smirk graced the Queen’s lips as the arrow in her grasp caught fire. She then turned it back towards the crowd and flung it as hard as she could, not at them, but over their heads. It landed somewhere behind them.

Snow laughed incredulously. “And you call me rusty? How the hell do you expect to win, Regina?”

“Like this.”

The Queen’s smirk widened as dozens of her soldiers came storming out from the alleyways behind the mob, ambushing them from abaft. The mob clearly hadn’t anticipated this. Snow never was a good battle strategist. Plus, her hubris always got the better of her. 

“W-What?! How did you manage to sneak them in without anyone noticing?!”

“Simple,” said Regina, “I used magic.”

The mob’s shock and lack of battle strategy led to an easy defeat at the hands of the Queen’s soldiers. All of them were either knocked out or simply too weak to move, but none of them were dead. There would be no more casualties. Well, save for one. 

Regina flicked her wrist, and Snow’s bow vanished along with her arrows. The Queen cast a binding spell over the Princess, restricting her movements with invisible bonds. Snow cursed and screamed at the Queen in rage, but the brunette was completely unfazed by this. With another wave of her hand, Regina knocked the bitch unconscious.

\---

Snow awoke to find herself bound to a tree in the middle of the woods and drenched from head to toe in what smelled like chicken grease. She immediately began screaming for help, but none came. All she saw was a wolf, and for a second, she thought it might have been Red. 

That was just her hope getting in the way. 

In reality, it was just a stupid beast. She only spoke to nice creatures, like birds, deer, and rabbits. However, in that moment, she desperately wished she could get through to the wolf. She quickly recognized it as the one that had shielded the Huntsman. Her eyes widened in horrified realization. 

“Please!” she begged, weeping openly, “Please, don’t kill me!”

She promptly shut her mouth when the wolf began snarling and growling at her, licking its sharp fangs as it sniffed the air. The chicken grease. Oh, Gods, the chicken grease! They had left her here to be torn apart! The wolf stepped closer to her, and its growls grew louder and more vicious. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering in fear and praying inwardly to the Gods for help. 

None came. 

Perhaps they were still angry with her for her treatment of her husband. Looking back, she had been rather cruel. She should have known better. He was the man, after all. It was he who should have been in charge, not her. Still, she had always had more of a backbone. 

She loved David, she really did, but more often than not, he followed her around like a lost puppy, obeying her every command and going along with every stupid plan that ever popped into her head. Yes, she loved him, but sometimes he could be a real hassle, and the sword he kept at his side was far more impressive than the one in his trousers. It was actually quite pathetic. 

Maybe that wasn’t why the Gods were angry at her. Maybe they were angry because she had outlawed the worship of the Sky Goddess— the Evil Queen’s patron deity. She would not allow her subjects to pray to the Goddess of that murderous witch. They could worship the rest of the Gods. She didn’t care. It just couldn’t be that one. She couldn’t even bring herself to think of the Goddess’ name. It sickened her. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the Evil Queen’s voice. 

“Down, boy.”

And the growling ceased. 

Snow reluctantly opened her eyes to find the wolf sitting silently— calmly— at the Queen’s side, allowing the woman to scratch behind its ears as though it was a dog. The Queen glared hatefully at her when their eyes met. 

“Do you know why you’re here, Snow?”

“Because you want to kill me for a crime I didn’t commit!”

“Do you mean Daniel’s death? The death that you caused?”

“I was just a child, Regina! Gods above, I was only trying to help you! I didn’t want you to lose your mother the way I lost mine!”

“Yes, well, that may be the case, but you still broke your promise to me,” the Queen seethed, “and you certainly weren’t a child when you shot an arrow through the Huntsman’s heart, or when you put a bullet in his head!”

Snow was fuming. “What?! I didn’t put a bullet in that traitor’s head! I only shot him with my arrow! Blowing his brains out would have ended his misery! I wanted him to suffer! I don’t even have a gun!”

This gave the Queen pause. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, what the Princess was saying made sense. Why go through the trouble of putting an arrow through someone just to shoot them in the head? Regina had been far too emotional to really give this any thought. Her eyes darkened. It had to have been the imp. Of course it was him all along! He had lied to her yet again! She’d been so desperate to get the hat that she hadn’t even realized it! 

She forced the thought to the back of her mind, vowing to deal with the Dark One later. She and the Princess still had unfinished business. 

“I suppose it’s fitting,” she said.

Snow frowned. “What is?”

“The fact that your name is Snow White,” the Queen explained, “You always were a cold bitch.”

The Princess started to protest, but the Queen cut her off.

“The Huntsman spared your life all those years ago,” said Regina, “Poor little Snow White won over the big bad Man-Beast of Misthaven. He showed you kindness. He cut out the heart of a stag instead of yours, and how do you repay him? By shooting him in the heart! Shooting him when his back was turned! Don’t you know you’re supposed to look a person in the eye when you kill them?! That’s the one shred of decency you can show someone when taking their life! You couldn’t even do that!”

“He was a traitor! He deserved to die! He helped you escape!”

Regina stormed towards Snow in a rage and backhanded the woman as hard as she possibly could, slicing the Princess’ face with her ring. Snow gasped as a thin trail of blood slid down her stinging cheek. 

“No, you idiot! He was doing it for Emma and Henry! Had they not been there, he’d probably have left me to die in the grass! And rightfully so! I can’t say I’d blame him, either! He was helping Emma because he helped you, and because you’re her mother! As primitive as his mindset was, he still had compassion! Certainly a hell of a lot more than you do, you little bitch!”

“First you stole my father from me, then you stole my daughter and the man I thought I could trust! How long are you going to carry this stupid grudge?!”

Regina grabbed Snow’s face roughly. They were now just inches apart. The Princess could feel the raw fury flowing off of the Queen in waves. It was almost tangible. 

“If you had any idea what your father stole from me, you wouldn’t be so quick to defend Him. You think I’m evil? Compared to that tyrant, I’m a fucking saint. Do you hear me, Snow White? Thank the Gods He didn’t have magic. If He had, He’d be on par with Rumple-fucking-stiltskin!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Snow screamed.

“Oh, don’t I?” Regina asked incredulously, “You mean to tell me that He never held me down and raped me? That He never beat me? Never screamed at me or berated me? Never chained me to the wall and whipped me? Never forced me to drink a potion? A potion that made me go into labor just so He could steal my child from me? My child— Daniel’s child— that you somehow knew about? Are you telling me that He didn’t throw my baby away like garbage? Are you telling me that you didn’t run your stupid mouth to Him about my pregnancy? You’re an even bigger imbecile than I imagined.”

Any color left in Snow’s face had just drained. “W-What? He— He would never do that!”

“Oh, He most certainly would, Snow White! Because He did! I lost my baby because of you! Just like I lost Daniel!”

“You could have had another!”

Snow suddenly found that she couldn’t breathe. Her throat had closed, yet the Queen wasn’t even touching her. It was magic, she realized. The Queen was suffocating her with dark magic. She began to cry silent tears, which only seemed to add fuel to the fire burning in the Queen’s eyes.

“Listen to me, you brat,” the Queen hissed, “That potion He made me drink? Not only did it cost me my child, it left me with a barren womb! I would have given anything to have a child! Just not with that— that brute! No! Never with Him! How cruel that the Gods would allow such a thing to happen to me, someone who so desperately wanted to be a mother! How cruel that they would allow you, someone who threw her own daughter away just minutes after giving birth, to bear children!”

Angry tears streaked her face.

“If I brought a child into this world— whether it be a son or a daughter— I would love them unconditionally! I would do everything in my power to ensure their happiness! They would want for nothing! They would be free to follow their passions, their dreams! They could be poets, if they wanted! Scribes! Bards! Painters! It wouldn’t matter! Just like it wouldn’t matter if they were born without legs, without arms, whatever! It would be difficult, I know, but I would make their lives as easy as possible! Because that’s what a mother is supposed to do! Love her children! Protect them! I certainly don’t see you doing any of that!”

She released the Princess, allowing the bitch to breathe once again. Snow coughed and wheezed, dramatically gasping for air. Regina rolled her eyes. The royal brat always was one to exaggerate. 

“You’re lying! I do love Emma!” Snow argued.

“As do I.”

“No! You can’t love her! She’s my daughter! And she’s a—a—” 

“A woman? A strong, brave, beautiful young woman? Yes, she is,” said Regina, “and yes, I can love her. I do. Very much so. I love her, just as she loves me. I love her so much, in fact, that I bury my tongue inside her each night and make her scream my name. I love her so much that I strap a cock to my hips and listen to her beg for more while I fuck orgasm after orgasm out of her tight little—”

“ENOUGH!” cried the Princess, “I won’t just stand here while you defile my daughter!”

“Oh, but you will,” said the Queen, “and I haven’t ‘defiled’ her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Until she met me, she was completely miserable and bitter. But she’s been opening up to me. She let me in. She trusts me. She loves me. How, I haven’t the slightest idea, but I’m grateful for it, nonetheless. Her love for me, and my love for her, have uplifted us both. Unfortunately, you broke her spirit all over again when you opened your stupid mouth, and now you’ve completely shattered it by murdering her friend in cold blood. If anyone’s defiling her, it’s you, Snow White. You might as well have crushed her heart, just like my mother did with Daniel’s. All. Because. Of. You.”

The Queen was now dangerously close to the trembling Princess. 

“You sicken me,” she hissed, “but how poetic that your daughter— the Savior— fell for the ‘Evil Queen,’ and I, though it is tainted with sin, love her with all my heart. Her and the beautiful boy she brought into this world. The son we now share.”

“He’s not your son!”

Once again, the Queen delivered a merciless slap to Snow’s reddened face. In an instant, a dark piece of cloth materialized in the Princess’ mouth, effectively gagging her. She began to scream in rage and in terror, but her obscenities were muffled by the black cloth. 

“I always dreamed of being a poet,” Regina said, staring out into the distance, “Wouldn’t you know it?”

She locked eyes with the Princess and a sly grin graced her lips. Despite her better judgement, she simply couldn’t resist. What was the harm?

“How lucky you are,” she husked, “to have such a beautiful daughter. Her eyes, they shimmer— oh, how they shimmer— like stars upon the water. Green like the sea, they pull me under. The mere sight of her makes my tarnished heart thunder. She is an angel with a head of gold and a smile that puts the sun to shame. She is my Savior, brave and true. Blessed is her name. She is my love, my Knight, and my hero, through and through.”

Her voice grew sultry as she moved closer. Her eyes seemed to darken. This clearly unnerved the Princess, much to her delight.

“Her skin is smooth and soft, like a pitcher of fresh cream. Her voice is divine. How I revel in hearing her scream. As I utter her sacred name, she calls out mine. She cries, breathless, into the starry night. I uncover it with my tongue, savoring the sweet treasure. At her core lies a prize, buried and locked away tight. It is not gold I uncover, nor precious jewels, but her unabashed pleasure. Deep within her, I ignite a spark. I lap at her skin like dancing fire. Gracefully, as one, we move within the dark. We come together in harmony, fueling our shared desire. I fill her with my love, and she pleads for more. Oh, how she moans and begs. Each night, I reach deep into her core. I care not that she possesses no legs. Beneath her supple breast lies a tender heart. It is a heart that yearns. She writhes and she whimpers, begging to be torn apart.”

The Queen ignored the muffled curses falling from the Princess’ gagged lips. 

“You take my love, you take my crown,” she continued, “You turn my kingdom on its head. I held my people high, but you brought them all down. Because of you, my child is dead. A barren desert He made my womb. Your father was the King, though a tyrant all the same. Of my flesh, He built a tomb. You boast of perfection, yet with every step, you bring naught but shame.”

She grabbed the woman by the hair, and she began to pray.

“Blessed be my Angel of the Night. Protect her, Cavilthura, sweet Sky Goddess. Protect my family, yet curse the one called Snow White. Shield my beloved, and defend her golden bodice. Hear me, oh Warring Thunder, for this is all that I ask.” 

Dark clouds began to circle overhead like famished vultures. Rain soon followed, pattering against the forest floor in time with the furious thunder. As the sky grew darker, so, too, did the Queen’s demeanor. 

“Of your divine power, I hold no mistrust. Let not your eyes be deceived by her blubbering mask. The end of Snow White is noble and just. She destroys all that others hold dear. She bends belief and twists the truth. To you I pray, bring an end to her campaign of fear. She kills in cold blood, whether elder or youth. Gaze into her mind’s eye. See the bitterness within her empty heart. See her sins, oh Mistress in the Sky. Rouse rapacious hunger, and see her ripped apart.”

Suddenly, the wolf was back on its feet, snarling and drooling as it stalked closer to the bound Princess. Snow’s eyes were wide with terror. The cloth did little, if anything, to muffle her screams. 

As the wolf’s fangs tore through grease-painted flesh, the Queen found herself unable to watch, though she certainly wanted to. She turned and slowly sauntered back through the forest, wandering almost aimlessly until the Princess’ agonizing screams were but a whisper. She waited at the edge of the forest, not far from Jefferson’s estate. She hadn’t paid it much attention before, but the view of the town from the hills was rather beautiful. Peaceful, even, especially now that the mob had been apprehended. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour before the wolf came trotting over to her. Hearing the leaves crunch beneath its paws, the Queen turned to find the creature’s silver fur spattered red. Its head was hung until it was at her side. The wolf stared up at her somewhat expectantly and let out a small whine. It might have been precious, had blood not been oozing from its jaws. 

The Queen ran a hand over the wolf, just above its fur, and all traces of blood vanished in an instant. The wolf nudged her hand with its cold nose, licking her palm as if in gratitude. She laughed softly and scratched just behind its ears, as she had seen the Huntsman do numerous times. It seemed more like a common hound than a wolf, she mused. Except, of course, when it was tearing the flesh off of Snow White’s bones. 

She needed to see it for herself. The damage had already been done. She had to know. She turned and walked slowly back into the forest with the wolf trotting alongside her. She could have just transported herself with magic, but she was giving herself time to prepare for what she would inevitably find. 

Oh, the irony of it all.

There, bound to the tree, was the lifeless corpse of Snow White. Her eyes were frozen in utter terror, staring not at, but through the Queen. Most of her body was still intact, but her legs were missing. 

A cold smirk graced the Queen’s lips at the bitter irony. Once again, she patted the wolf’s head. She looked to the sky and allowed her eyes to slip shut as rain fell upon her cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

It was only when her eyes opened that she realized it wasn’t raining.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update.

Try as she might, Regina didn’t get any sleep that night. She lied awake in bed, holding Emma close in a spooning position and listening to the soft, steady breaths of her blonde lover. She hadn’t been in the mood for sex, and Emma hadn’t asked. There was just this unspoken connection between them now. It was clear to her that Emma could feel the guilt that had begun creeping into her mind, but again, Emma hadn’t pried. For this, she was grateful.

She tried her best to ignore the guilt, but it kept taunting her from the darkest depths of her conscience. She couldn’t get the image of Snow White out of her head. Snow White, bound to that tree, with only bloody stumps were her legs had once been. Like the wolf had done to the arrogant Princess, the Queen’s guilt was eating away at her. 

She shouldn’t have felt guilty. She had what she wanted. Emma had known she would do it, but hadn’t protested in the slightest. She wanted to believe that it was better to keep the blonde in the dark about what exactly she’d done to Snow, but the thought of lying to her Knight was a painful one. She feared Emma would never forgive her, and that Henry would begin to hate her all over again. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Her fear built up around her like an iron fortress, and it proved almost tangible as Emma started to stir. The sound of her lover’s tired voice pulled the Queen from her troubled thoughts.

“Gina?” Emma mumbled.

For a moment, this sparked a flicker of warmth within the brunette’s heart, but it was snuffed out just as quickly by a cold feeling of remorse. She felt her heart begin beating faster as Emma rolled over to face her. 

“You wanna talk about it?” the blonde asked tentatively.

Regina pulled the woman closer in search of comfort, which Emma seemed more than happy to provide. 

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma told her, “What’s on your mind? I can feel the guilt coming off of you in waves. Is this about Snow White?”

The Queen nodded hesitantly. “Yes,” she whispered.

Emma’s eyes were sympathetic as she cupped the brunette’s cheek. She was stunned to find a streak of tears there, being unable to see it in the darkness. All she could see was those hypnotic brown eyes, gleaming in the moonlight like those of a cat. They were brimming with pain and regret. 

“I’m guessing you took care of her.”

It wasn’t a question, but the Queen nodded anyhow. 

“Yes,” she said again, much softer this time. “I just wish I had gone about it differently.”

Emma remained silent. The look in her eyes said more than words ever could. Her face was masked in uncertainty and apprehension, though she made no move to shy away from the Queen’s hand as it caressed her cheek. She swallowed. When she finally spoke, her voice was reluctant.

“And how exactly did you ‘go about it?’”

Emma knew she shouldn’t have asked, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted— no, needed— to know the truth. Regina knew about her lie-detector. What would be the point in lying to her? With or without her superpower, she just wanted to hear it from the brunette’s lips. Regina wouldn’t lie to her. Right?

The Queen closed her eyes and let out a quiet, shaky sigh. She just cradled Emma’s head in the space between her neck and shoulder, absently stroking her lover’s silky, golden tresses in an attempt to comfort the both of them.

“It was my cavalry that came up with the whole idea,” she said, “I was just the one who carried it out. Well, me and the wolf.”

“The wolf?”

The Queen just nodded. “Some of my soldiers covered her in chicken grease,” she rasped, “I admit, I tormented her a bit. Only through words. I left once the wolf started ripping into her.”

Emma tensed, but said nothing. 

The Queen could feel the shock rolling off of her in waves. “I am so sorry, Emma. I know this doesn’t make it right, but despite my best efforts, I’m still the Evil Queen. There is darkness inside me. Sometimes it’s hard to control. When I’m with you, I just feel like Regina. But out there, in those woods, with Snow White, I couldn’t help myself. I let that darkness overcome me. But you, sweet Emma, you help me tame it. Your love conquers it. I won’t lie to you, my love, but I don’t want to turn you away, either.”

Emma suddenly pulled back to look the brunette in the eye. Her expression was unreadable. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said quietly, “The bitch deserved it. Not just for what she did to you, or Daniel, or the Huntsman, but for what she did to me.”

What she said next left her lover speechless.

“I just wish I could’ve been there to see it.” 

The Queen instantly brought her arms around the blonde and sat up so that they were eye to eye. She clung tightly to her Knight, speaking almost seductively.

“I can take you there.”

“Show me.”

With a nod, the Queen transported the two of them to the woods where she’d left Snow’s body. It was exactly as it was before, though the life had long-since drained from the bitch’s glossy eyes. The Queen watched Emma shuffle slowly towards the Princess’ corpse.

“No legs. How,” Emma paused, “poetic.”

She turned to face Regina, who was looking back at her apprehensively. She reached up and gave the brunette’s hand a light squeeze. 

“Emma, I’m s—” 

“No,” said Emma, “Don’t apologize. Was it brutal? Absolutely, but she deserved every fucking bit of it.”

Regina bit her lip. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“Upset? No. That isn’t the word I would use.”

The Queen was panicking internally. “W-What word did you have in mind, then?”

Emma could feel the brunette’s fear. She offered a small smile in an effort to reassure the woman.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” she said gently, “I was just gonna say I was conflicted. Not about our relationship, if that’s what you’re thinking. I love you, Regina. Nothing will ever change that. I’m just conflicted about Snow White. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, she’s my mother. Should I feel bad? Probably, but I’m not exactly on the pedestal of morality. I’m only human. Maybe if she gave a damn about me, I’d give a damn that she’s dead, but honestly? I don’t. She’s as dead to me now as she was when she was still breathing. She hurt you, Regina. She hurt the woman I love. She hurt my friend. She hurt me. I can’t just forgive something like that, even if she is my mother. I’ve never really been one to believe in an afterlife, but if this whole fairytale mess is anything to go by, then I’m willing to put my faith in something. If there is a Hell, she’s definitely going to burn.”

Regina placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Actually, dear, where I come from, there is but one Underworld. Good souls rest peacefully in the warm Fields of Espheron. The evil souls are left to wander aimlessly in the Melancholy Timber, the icy forest of the damned. It is a miserable place, locked in an eternal winter, but it is not snow that falls upon the restless spirits. It is the ashes of those they wronged.”

Emma grimaced. “That’s just awful.”

The Queen could only nod. “There’s no rest for the wicked.”

Emma squeezed her hand tighter. “Thank you, Regina. Really. I don’t want you to feel guilty about this anymore. You shouldn’t have to. Besides, it’s hard for me, knowing exactly how much pain you’re in. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to leave in the morning. I don’t care where we go, just as long as we’re together. You, me, and Henry. Oh yeah, and the wolf.”

Regina waved her hand, transporting back to the comfort of their warm bed, and the second their eyes met, she slammed her lips against Emma’s almost hungrily. 

“Thank you, Emma,” she breathed, showering the blushing blonde’s face with a myriad of affectionate kisses. “Thank you, my darling. My love. You have no idea how much that means to me. Well, perhaps you do, what with the potion and everything. Of course it’s alright with me. It’s more than alright. So much more. Ever so much more.”

She pressed her lips to her lover’s neck, reveling in the delicious moans. 

“I want to give you the best life I possibly can,” she husked, “I’m going to build us a nice little cottage along the beach, just like you said you wanted. I’m going to plant a garden out back. There will be trees all around. Apple trees, preferably, and an abundance of stag. Perhaps I will teach you to hunt, if you like. We’ll get a cow for milk, and a hen for eggs. We’ll have a horse, and I’ll take you out riding on the sand. I’ll weave a crown of flowers into your golden hair and craft a necklace for you out of the finest seashells.”

She paused to wet her fingers before bringing them to the blonde’s aching core and eased them inside once receiving a permissive nod from her Knight.

“I’ll make love to you each night, sweet Emma, just like this. If not, then we’ll curl up by the fire and I shall recite my favorite poems unto you. You and Henry will want for nothing. I will protect you. I will give you the life you deserve. If ever you are sad, I shall make you happy. If ever you are sick, I shall make you well. If ever you are lonely, I shall be there for you. I will always be there for you, my little duck. I love you. I love you so, so much. No matter what you think— no matter what anyone tells you— you are worthy of love. You are not a freak. You, Emma Swan, are perfect.”

She would have continued had she not realized Emma was crying. She immediately withdrew her fingers from the slick heat and moved to comfort her lover. She stared at the blonde in confusion and concern. 

“Emma? Emma, my love, what’s wrong? Have I said something to upset you? Have I gone too far?”

Emma just shook her head, slowly rubbing the tears from her eyes. “No,” she said, “No, you haven’t upset me. I’m just, I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. That was beautiful. Everything you just said. I’ve never been turned on by someone describing their dream-home to me. That’s definitely a first. Hell, I’ve had a lot of ‘firsts’ with you.”

A slight smirk crept onto the Queen’s face. “Oh? And what other ‘firsts’ have you experienced with me?”

Emma’s blush deepened. “Uh, well, sexually, there was the squirting and the magic fingers, then there was the strap-on,” she confessed, “Never, uh— never had anyone use that on me before. Certainly not a leather one. Didn’t even know there were leather ones.”

“There are back in the Enchanted Forest. I find them much more enjoyable.”

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. “I’ll say.”

Regina laughed quietly. It was a rich, sultry laugh. Emma knew immediately that she had to hear it again. 

“Even more so when I enchant them,” she husked, “I give them sensation, so I can feel you— really feel you— clenching around me.”

Emma groaned involuntarily. “Sweet Jesus, that’s hot. You have to let me try that sometime.”

Regina chuckled yet again as she kissed the blonde. “It would be my pleasure.”

“No,” said Emma, “It’d be ours.”


	43. Chapter 43

Emma stared into the vortex with uncertainty. It was a deep purple, likely due to being activated by Regina’s magic. It whirled like a dark tornado, having expanded from an inconspicuous top-hat into an enormous portal in the floor. The force at which it was trying to drag them in was incredibly powerful, to say the least. Regina appeared completely unfazed by this, having grown up in a world where magic was not only real, but commonplace. 

Henry, being the child he was, was staring at it in pure wonder. He was fidgeting, not in apprehension, but in excitement. Regina’s hand was on his shoulder as if to keep him from being pulled in without them. Her other hand was clutching Emma’s in an attempt to reassure her. She could feel the anxiety rolling off of the blonde like the sweat on her brow. She squeezed her lover’s hand tighter.

“It’s alright, Emma, I’ve got you.”

Emma looked up at her tentatively. “Promise?”

A sweet smile graced the brunette’s lips. “I promise,” she said, “Just don’t let go.”

Emma just nodded, dumbfounded, and turned back to look at the portal. She couldn’t deny that the thought of living in a beach-house with Regina and the kid was an appealing one. Of course it was! It was the notion that she had to let this dark, mysterious vortex drag her into it that didn’t seem quite so appealing. She swallowed nervously, squeezing Regina’s hand just as tightly (if not more so). It was then, and only then, that she realized her hands were trembling. Not just her hands, but her entire body. Regina called her a Knight, yet she bore no armor. If she had, she was certain it would be rattling.

It was only moments later that a sudden calmness washed over her. It couldn’t have been natural. Her heart was racing a million miles an hour. At least, it had been just seconds before. She slowly met Regina’s gaze and found herself growing tired. 

“Regina?” she mumbled.

“I’ve placed a calming spell over you, my darling. You looked like you needed it.”

Again, Emma just nodded, not really comprehending the brunette’s words in her increasingly-drowsy state, but accepting them, nonetheless. She was now struggling to keep her eyes open. 

“It seems I may have overdone it a bit,” Regina mused, “but worry not, my darling. Everything will be alright now.”

That was the last thing Emma heard before she drifted off. 

\---

She was awoken by the feeling of a rough, wet tongue sliding up her cheek. She groaned as she opened her eyes. There stood the wolf, staring almost expectantly at her with its mismatched eyes. If she hadn’t already known, she would never have believed that this affectionate creature was the one to rip Snow’s legs off. The wolf nudged her tentative hand with its nose as she reached up to pet it.

“Good boy,” she said softly.

She sat up, and it was then that she realized she was lying in what had to be the world’s most comfortable bed. It felt like it was stuffed with a ton of feathers, as did the soft pillows. A warm quilt was draped over the mattress. It seemed ancient, stitched together from various pieces of fabric, though most of the fabrics were either red or tan. Just a handful of them were white and yellow. It, too, felt as though it was stuffed with feathers. It was quaint. Charming, even, despite its simplicity. Someone had clearly put time and effort into this. Perhaps it wasn’t so simple, after all. 

She peered over the side of the bed and found that there was no frame. It was just a mattress on the ground. This stunned her. Was Regina seriously willing to sleep on the floor? For her? The notion left a feeling of warmth in her chest. She smiled uncontrollably as she studied the rest of the room. 

To her right was a bedside table with a tall wax candle sitting atop it, though the wick had yet to be lit. Next to the candle was the ornate rosary Graham had given her. Her smile fell, only to be replaced with a look of remorse. She reached for it with a shaking hand and brought it to her lips, closing her eyes as she planted a soft kiss upon the bronze crucifix. She looked over at the wolf when she heard it whine. Its eyes were locked on the rosary. It must have smelled the Huntsman. 

She extended her hand, allowing the wolf to sniff the bejeweled rosary. It, too, kissed the crucifix (by licking it, of course). She chuckled softly, though there was more sadness in it than humor. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I miss him, too.”

She carefully placed the rosary around her neck and clutched the crucifix as if never intending to let go. She lied back on the bed, feeling as if she was resting on a cloud. She let out a contented sigh and allowed her eyes to slip shut. The bed dipped a bit as the wolf brought its head to rest on the edge of the mattress. Without opening her eyes, she began to stroke the creature’s head. 

\---

She must have drifted off again, because when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring up at Regina. The brunette offered her a warm smile, which she was quick to return.

“I’m pleased to see you’re enjoying the new bed.”

Emma sat up slowly. “Yeah,” she said, “it’s like sleeping on a cloud.”

It was then that she noticed the cardboard box in her lover’s arms. It was the box containing her most valuable possessions. She could see the corner of Henry’s book sticking out of it. 

“I brought this in from your car.”

Emma blinked in surprise. “You brought my car? How did you manage that?” 

Regina’s smile widened. “Magic, of course. I couldn’t just leave your Volkswagen behind. It’s out in the barn.”

“We have a barn?”

“We do now.”

Emma grinned. “Let me guess, you used magic to build it, didn’t you?”

The Queen’s face became serious. “No, Emma,” she said, “You’ve been asleep for the past three months. I built it by hand.”

The look Emma gave her was priceless. She threw her head back and let out that rich, sultry laugh of hers. 

“Only joking, dear.”

She set the box down on the bed next to Emma and reached over to pet the wolf as it lifted its head to greet her. The wolf stood up and nudged her leg with its nose. She chuckled softly as she scratched behind its ears.

“You like that, don’t you?” she cooed, “Such a good little wolf.”

“He seems to like you,” Emma noted.

Regina smiled at her. “He likes you, too. Henry, as well.”

“He’s more like a dog than a wolf.”

“That he is,” said Regina, “but he can certainly be a wolf when he needs to be. I believe he will make the perfect guardian, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, probably so.”

Emma peered into the cardboard box and carefully retrieved her woolen blanket, clutching it to her chest. She felt the bed dip next to her and turned to find Regina sitting there with a loving smile. A deep blush spread across her face as the brunette kissed her cheek. 

“I love you, Emma,” the Queen murmured, “Why don’t you come with me outside? There’s something I’d like you to see.”

Emma was more than happy to oblige. She took Regina’s hand and they were transported outside. What she saw took her breath away. It was a rustic cabin, resting just at the edge of the serene forest. Next to it was a small barn. She frowned, puzzled, when she heard a number of unfamiliar voices coming from out back. Regina seemed to sense her confusion and transported them to the back. 

There were dozens of homes scattered throughout the forest, with people bustling around them. The people paused upon noticing the plume of purple mist and began walking over. Henry was among them, Emma realized, moving alongside a boy who looked about his age. 

“Hey, kid,” she greeted, “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Alfonse,” said Henry.

Emma smiled and turned to the other boy. “Hi.”

The boy gave a small wave and a friendly smile, but said nothing. The confusion on Emma’s face was mild, but evident.

“He doesn’t talk,” Henry explained.

“Oh,” said Emma, “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

Alfonse’s smile widened and he politely offered his hand. Emma didn’t hesitate to shake it. His eyes seemed to light up as she did. He seemed excited, as if he was meeting his favorite celebrity. However, he became far more ecstatic when Regina went to greet him. Being the Queen, she was likely more familiar to the boy than Emma was.

“Hello, Alfonse,” said Regina, “Where might your parents be? Could you point me in their direction?”

Alfonse nodded and turned to look for his family. He pointed to the people closest to them— a man, a young girl, and three older boys. There was no woman present.

The man approached with a broad smile on his face. He had a full beard, dark but streaked with several wisps of gray. He looked a lot like Ander, though his eyes were somewhere between brown and green. He ruffled Alfonse’s hair affectionately and smiled at Regina. He was a giant of a man and his voice was like granite, but he possessed a kind aura. 

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he said, “I hope Alfonse isn’t pestering you.”

“Oh, no, it’s no trouble at all,” Regina assured him, “Alfonse is a real gentleman. He seems to be getting along well with Henry.”

She smiled, giving Henry’s shoulder a light squeeze before turning her attention back to the bear-like man. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” she said, “What might your name be?”

“Gunter Williamson,” said the man.

“Williamson? You wouldn’t happen to be kin to Ander, would you?”

Gunter nodded. “He’s my brother.”

“I thought you two looked alike,” said Regina. She noticed the young girl peering up at her curiously and her smile widened. “And who is this?” 

“This is Kya,” said Gunter, “Say hello, little one.”

The girl hesitated. “H-Hi,” she said timidly.

Gunter chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s always been rather bashful.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Regina. 

She looked over at the three older boys. They appeared to be in their teens. The tallest of the three couldn’t have been more than sixteen. None of them looked anything like their father. Regina found this a bit odd, but didn’t question it. 

“These knuckleheads are Nicholai, Luca, and Johan.” 

Nicholai had auburn hair and a few freckles scattered across his pale cheeks. Luca had dirty-blonde hair, much like his sister. Johan’s hair was a deep brown, as were his eyes. While his brothers seemed friendly, he seemed more distant. Perhaps bitter. Cold, even. Again, Regina didn’t question this, but she couldn’t just brush it off. Something wasn’t quite right. 

After some friendly conversation, Gunter excused himself and his family, explaining that he was going hunting and that he needed their help. Alfonse waved to Henry, who was quick to return the gesture. Kya looked back at the Queen one last time with an unmistakable sadness in her eyes. 

This definitely didn’t sit right with Regina, and Emma could sense her unease. Regina tried to mask this with a smile, but she knew Emma wasn’t buying it. Henry seemed oblivious, however, much to her relief. She didn’t want him thinking she was upset, knowing it would likely make him upset, as well. She patted his cheek gently. 

“Why don’t you go on inside, darling? I’ll make us some dinner.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Cool!” And he hurried into the house.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a ton of sexy-time, but is also very, VERY important!!! Can't stress that enough!

That evening, after enjoying a meal of stag, honeycomb, and vegetables from the garden, Emma rolled her way into the bedroom with her skateboard and went over to the wooden trunk in the corner, where her clothes and valuables were stored away. She pondered her selections for a moment before coming to the realization that none of them seemed appropriate. Not for a place like this.

She was still trying to comprehend the fact that she was in a completely different realm, worlds away from the one she’d grown up in. She had been born in this land, this ‘Enchanted Forest,’ but raised in the States. She’d never felt at home until she met Regina, but now that she was back in this unknown world, she was overwhelmed with a sense of belonging. This was her home. 

She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard Regina clear her throat. She looked up to find the brunette standing in the doorway, donned in a loose gray tunic and a familiar pair of leather pants that they both knew drove Emma mad with desire. 

“Something the matter, darling?” 

Emma glanced between the brunette and the trunk, closing it. “Not really, I just— I thought that maybe— I don’t know— you could maybe make me some new clothes? I don’t think t-shirts are gonna cut it.”

Regina chuckled softly as she stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She sauntered over to Emma and offered her hand to the blonde, who took it without hesitation. 

“Of course I can get you some new clothes,” she said, “I’ll do anything for you, my love. I would move mountains if you asked me to. Well, I would certainly try.” 

She transported them onto the bed and pulled Emma into a tight embrace, reveling in the sweet scent of the blonde’s golden tresses. 

“What did you have in mind?” she murmured.

“Just some tunics or something, I don’t know. I really like the one you’ve got on,” said Emma, “Although, I think it would look a lot better on the floor.”

A spark of lust ignited in the Queen’s eyes and she rendered them naked almost instinctively. She hovered over Emma, crouching like a jungle cat stalking its prey. 

“How do you want it, Emma?” she purred, “Hard? Soft? Gentle? Rough? It’s your choice.”

“Let’s— Let’s just take it slow for now,” said Emma, “then see how things go from there.”

The Queen slammed their lips together in a passionate kiss. “As you wish, my dearest love,” she husked.

She waved her hand, locking the door and casting a silencing spell so as to not traumatize Henry. She brought a hand to Emma’s core, delighted to find just how wet the blonde was. A deep, shuddery moan escaped her plush lips.

“You’re positively dripping for me, Em-ma.”

She slipped her fingers into the slick velvet, drawing a seemingly-endless string of gasps and moans from her lover with each and every pump of her glowing fingers. Magic flowed out of her fingertips and deep into the blonde’s core, causing the woman to writhe and scream in ecstasy as said energy coursed through her. 

“Yes, my darling,” rasped the Queen, “Feel my magic flow through you. Feel it touch every nerve. Every cell. Let it reach deep into your soul, so that we can become one.”

Emma’s back arched up off the feather-stuffed mattress, giving her lover the perfect opportunity. The Queen’s lips enveloped the blonde’s nipple, biting gently and circling it with her warm tongue. 

“Jesus, Regina, I— I— oh, FUCK!” Emma screamed. She raked her nails across Regina’s back, clinging desperately to the brunette. “Please,” she whimpered, “Forget what I said. I need you to fuck me. Hard. Right now. God, please. I— fuck— I need you so fucking badly!”

The Queen didn’t respond. She pulled her saturated fingers away, and before the blonde could even think of protesting the sudden loss of contact, she slammed into her lover with an enchanted leather cock without warning. 

Emma cried out in unabashed pleasure, rocking steadily against the Queen. The brunette was pounding into her almost mercilessly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside of her with every delicious thrust. She had never been so aroused in her life. The magic coursing through her veins left her entire body feeling as if it was on fire, though there was no pain. Only raw, unadulterated pleasure. She felt like she was floating. It was almost like her soul had left her body and was now on an entirely different plane of existence. 

“Does this please you, Emma?” the Queen husked, “Is this what you want? Hm? Do you like having my cock inside you? Do you want me to keep fucking you like this?”

“YES!” Emma screamed.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, to all of it! God, please, don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!”

“I shan’t stop, my sweet,” murmured the Queen, “Not until you’re completely satisfied.”

She held Emma up at the waist, hoisting the blonde onto her lap as she continued to sink her cock into that tight pussy again and again. Emma was clinging to her almost desperately, rocking against her as her hands slid down to cup that perfect ass. Emma’s lips collided with hers in a hungry kiss, muffling those breathless cries. 

At this point, Emma’s pleasure had just about driven her mad, and now it was beginning to affect Regina, as well. The Queen allowed herself to fall back so that Emma was now straddling her. She could do nothing but stare up in awe as the blonde began riding her. She could see her leather cock glisten in the dancing light of the nearby fire. She kept her hands on Emma’s back so as to hold the blonde steady. It was undeniably odd, seeing someone with no legs ride an enchanted strap-on, but it was equally breathtaking. She groaned when she felt Emma beginning to coil around her.

“Come for me, my Knight. Come for your Queen. That is a direct order from Her Majesty.”

It didn’t take long for Emma to obey. The second she reached her climax, she was left a trembling, sweating, panting mess. She gasped and moaned as she struggled to hold herself up, and might have fallen had Regina not been there to catch her. 

“I’ve got you, Emma,” the brunette murmured, pulling her lover into a warm embrace. “You seem exhausted, my love. Do you wish to stop?”

Emma struggled to catch her breath. “Yeah,” she panted, “I’m just feeling a little groggy, is all. I guess that calming spell was stronger than I thought.”

She blinked in surprise as she felt a sudden emptiness within her. The cock had vanished into thin air. It was certainly a strange sensation. Regina pulled her closer and she rested her head on the woman’s shoulder. She sighed, content, as the brunette began to stroke her back ever so gently. Regina carefully set her down on the mattress. She smiled when she felt the Queen’s hand caress her cheek. 

“I wrote a poem for you,” Regina told her, “Well, not so much wrote it as memorized it.”

Emma smiled. “I’d love to hear it,” she said genuinely.

Regina’s eyes lit up in wonder, as if she hadn’t expected Emma to care. She realized now that she should have known better. She grinned in delight as she leaned down to plant a sweet kiss upon her lover’s lips. 

“You thought you knew me, but then we kissed. I was a stranger unto you, and you unto me. You came to me in my crypt, beneath the melancholy mist. In the shadows of my mind I was a prisoner, but it was your love that set me free. In your arms, I came close to death. In your arms, you held me tight. It was your love that preserved my dying breath. To my darkness, you bring light. In your sweet hands, you hold my tainted heart. My love for you is rivaled only by my love for our son.” 

Tears slipped silently down her olive cheeks. She held up a fist before the blonde’s eyes, though it remained closed.

“If you will have me, sweet Emma, I promise to love and cherish you for all eternity, till death do us part,” she rasped, “Let the Gods lay witness to our sacred bond, and may we live forever as one.”

She uncurled her fingers to reveal a silver ring. Her eyes met Emma’s with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Her heart was pounding in her chest like the thunder in the starlit sky. Emma was staring back at her in awe and disbelief, clearly at a loss for words.

“Will you marry me, Emma Sw—” 

She was cut off by a passionate kiss, and as her eyes slipped shut, she knew she had her answer. She lifted the blonde’s trembling hand and slid the ring delicately onto her lover’s finger. 

Tears of joy rolled down Emma’s face as Regina slid a silver ring onto her finger. She stared down at it in pure wonder. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. She and Regina were going to be married. 

She was utterly speechless. 

No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to get the words out. After her experience with Henry’s father, she never once believed that she would get married. That is, until she met Regina. There weren’t many things in life that she was sure of, but being Regina Mills’ wife was most certainly one of them. 

\---

Later— she didn’t know how long, exactly— as they were gazing into one another’s eyes, Emma finally found her voice. She never once broke eye contact with the brunette. 

“Where did you get the ring?” she whispered. 

Regina hesitated. “It was Daniel’s,” she said quietly, “He gave it to me when he proposed, though as you can see, that dream was short-lived.” 

After a pause, she leaned over and kissed Emma sweetly. 

“But now it’s yours, my darling, and by the Gods, it looks absolutely perfect on you. Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more beautiful.”

She gave Emma’s hand a tight squeeze, brushing her thumb gently across the blonde’s pale knuckles. 

“I love you, Emma. My little duck. My perfect swan. My brave Knight. My hero. My Savior. My bride.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a very important original character :D

They’d been married for two months now. The wedding was short and sweet, as they both agreed it should be. The priest, an older man named Auric, had declared them wed in the name of the Gods. Emma made a mental note to inquire about these mysterious Gods, though only after their wedding night. Seeing how she was technically a Princess— she still couldn’t get used to that— she supposed marrying Regina made her a Queen, as well. She certainly felt like one when her wife was making love to her. 

Two months felt like a breeze. Even now, Emma couldn’t stop smiling. She had never been so happy in all her life. She hadn’t thought it possible to be this happy, and yet, she was. Very much so. She’d struggled at first with the idea that she didn’t have a ring to give Regina, but Gunter had helped her out by forging one, as he was a skilled blacksmith. It was a simple silver band, not much different than the one Regina had given her. Once she put that ring on her wife’s finger, Regina never took it off. 

On this particular day, Regina awoke just as the sun was peeking out over the horizon. Smiling, she turned to find Emma asleep on her stomach. She stroked her wife’s hair gently as it shimmered in the light of dawn. Slowly— silently— she exited the bedroom and headed out back to gather eggs for their breakfast. 

She was barefoot, clad only in her loose, gray tunic and a baggy pair of trousers, composed of various pieces of fabric, all stitched together haphazardly by her beloved wife, who had insisted on sewing them by hand. She chuckled softly. They looked as though they’d been sewn by a child, but she didn’t dare tell Emma this. The sentiment behind her wife’s efforts was charming in its own right, and so she wore them with pride. 

She picked up the woven basket next to the chicken coop and carefully opened the door so as to not startle the hens. She was delighted to find that together, the three of them had laid exactly a dozen eggs. 

“Thank you, ladies,” she said fondly.

Once she finished gathering all the eggs into the basket, she stepped back out and closed the hatch. She then went over to inspect the garden, only to find some of the vegetables missing, namely the carrots and potatoes. She frowned. Who would have stolen from their garden? More importantly, why? Everyone in the newly-founded village had gardens of their own. Why would they even need to steal? 

She waved her hand and the basket was transported safely into the kitchen. Breakfast would have to wait. She was going to find the culprit, whoever it was, and deal with the situation accordingly.

It didn’t take her long to find the missing vegetables. She was able to track them down with the aid of her magic. She eventually came upon a small campsite nearly a mile from the village. There was no one there, at least not presently, though there most certainly had been. There was a makeshift tent put together from branches and leaves, just big enough for one person. In this tent, she found a leather satchel full of various fruits and vegetables, likely taken from more than just her garden. 

Her eyes narrowed. “You’d better pray I don’t find you, you little thief,” she muttered. 

She froze when she heard the distinct stretch of a bow. 

“Put your hands where I can see them,” said a voice. 

Regina reluctantly did as she was instructed, holding her hands up as if in surrender. She didn’t dare move. The last thing she needed was another arrow in her back. 

“Alright, now turn around.”

She slowly turned to face the thief, and what she saw nearly made her heart stop. For a moment, she thought she was staring into the face of Snow White, but then she came to her senses. 

The thief was a woman, seemingly in her thirties. She was clad in a brown leather vest with matching trousers and a forest-green cloak. Strapped to her back was a quiver of arrows, all adorned with gray feathers. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, yet her skin was beautifully-pale. She was scowling, but there was a determined gleam in her blue-gray eyes. 

For reasons she couldn’t understand, the more she looked at this woman, the more Regina was reminded of Daniel. She forced the thought to the back of her mind. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Regina,’ she told herself inwardly, ‘It’s just a coincidence.’

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly.

The words left her lips before she could even think to stop them. The thief faltered a bit, clearly puzzled by this. 

“What?”

“I said, what is your—”

“I know what you said!” the woman snapped, “But why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to help you.”

“Help me? How?”

“I want to help you return what you’ve stolen. The people here are trying their best to get by. By stealing from them, you’re preventing them from putting food on the table. Is that what you want? To let people starve? Do you want children going to bed hungry?”

The woman was silent, staring deep into Regina’s eyes as if in search of deceit. She found none. She reluctantly lowered her bow, though she didn’t let go of the arrow. She was still fully-prepared to shoot if she needed to. She scanned the brunette quickly for any signs of a weapon, but again, found none. She was trying her best not to think about just how much this woman looked like her. The resemblance was uncanny. 

‘Could it be?’ she thought, ‘No. That’s impossible. This woman can’t be more than a few years older than me.’

“Arcadia,” she said quickly, unable to stop herself.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” the thief clarified, “is Arcadia.”

“Arcadia,” the Queen repeated softly. She couldn’t help but smile. “What a lovely name it is. How old are you?”

Arcadia aimed the arrow at her once again. “Alright, lady, I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’d best get out of my way. I only took a few things from each garden. These people won’t starve. I can promise you that. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m trying to feed my family, too?”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Arcadia spat, “Resources are scarce. We’ve been traveling from village to village, but they’ve all been abandoned. You all are the first people we’ve seen in seven months. I don’t exactly like stealing things, you know, but my family needs to eat.”

“You could have just asked,” said the Queen, “I’m sure anyone would’ve given you some food if you’d taken the time to ask them. I certainly would have. Now why don’t you put that bow away and be civil?”

Arcadia did so reluctantly, though her posture remained defensive. 

“Who are you, lady?”

“My name is Regina.”

“Never met anyone with that name.”

“Nor have I met anyone with yours. Wherever did you get it?”

Arcadia blinked at her in confusion. “Um, from my father?”

“And your mother?”

Arcadia looked away, unable to meet the brunette’s gaze any longer. “I don’t have a mother.”

“Of course you do. Everyone has a mother.”

“Well, yes, but not everyone knows their mother.”

Regina gave a small nod. “True,” she conceded, “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to pry. I suppose Emma’s curiosity has rubbed off on me.”

“Emma?”

“My wife,” Regina explained.

“Wife? But,” Arcadia paused, “you’re a woman.”

“Yes, how very astute of you.”

Arcadia rolled her eyes in a way only the Queen could. “I mean, I thought such relations were against the law?”

Regina arched an eyebrow at this. “Says the thief.” She continued before Arcadia could get a word out. “They were, once,” she said, “but not here. Not now. Only we humans hold such prejudices. The Gods care not whom we take to bed, so long as the desire is mutual.”

“What are you, a priestess?”

“A Queen, actually.”

Arcadia scoffed. “You? A Queen?”

A small smirk graced Regina’s lips. “Yes, well, not in the traditional sense. I suppose I’m more of a glorified village chief. At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.”

“How noble of you.”

Arcadia’s tone was somewhere between sarcastic and genuine. It was impossible to know where exactly it fell.

“Why don’t you come with me? I was just about to prepare breakfast.”

Arcadia was visibly taken aback. “Y-You would invite me to break bread with you? After what I’ve done?”

“Your family shouldn’t have to starve,” said Regina, “but neither should mine, nor any other. Come. Let’s return what you’ve stolen, then I can build you and your family a home, if you like.”

“Oh, so now you’re a carpenter?”

Regina shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Helping me? A complete stranger! Someone who stole from you!”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Are you sure you’re not a priestess?”

Regina chuckled softly. “Far from it,” she said, “though my belief in the Gods is stronger now than ever.”

“Which God do you pray to?”

“Cavilthura,” said the Queen, “What about you? Does your family have a patron deity?”

“My father often prays to Rig for a successful hunt,” replied the thief, “but I— I stopped praying a long time ago.”

She didn’t elaborate, and Regina didn’t ask her to, for which she was grateful. She looked past the Queen and towards her tent where her satchel lied. She had begun to feel guilty for what she’d done. She closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head in shame. 

“You can take the vegetables,” she said quietly, “It won’t happen again.”

She moved to step past the Queen, but Regina placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She blinked up at the woman in confusion. 

“I’d like to help you, Arcadia.”

“Why? Because it’s the ‘right thing to do?’”

“Yes,” said Regina, “and because I feel a connection with you, as strange as that sounds.”

Arcadia turned away so she wouldn’t have to meet the woman’s eyes any longer. She forced a halfhearted scoff from her lips.

“D-Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, “We only just met.”

“Perhaps in this life,” Regina murmured.

As badly as she wanted to ask what the woman meant, Arcadia held her tongue. Regina hadn’t pried, so neither would she. She reached down and retrieved her satchel, but the moment she did, she discovered that it was completely empty. She frowned, bewildered, even going so far as to turn it over just to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. 

“What in the world?”

She heard Regina chuckle and looked up to find the woman smirking at her in amusement. She glanced between the Queen and the satchel, unsure what to make of this. 

“Did you do this? How? Oh Gods, was that witchcraft?!” 

Arcadia stepped back, once again taking on a defensive stance. She started to reach for her arrow, but Regina’s voice gave her pause. 

“Relax, Arcadia. I merely returned the vegetables to their rightful places. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“So you really are a witch?”

“I prefer the term ‘sorceress,’” Regina said coolly, inspecting her nails as if they were the most interesting things in the world. “But I suppose you can call me whatever you like. It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“You— You aren’t going to hurt me?”

“Of course not. I merely came to find the stolen food. I hadn’t expected to find you— err, for you to find me.” 

Regina offered a warm smile and extended her hand invitingly.

“Come. Meet my family. We’ll all have breakfast.”

Arcadia stared at the offered hand with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” she said, “My father will be worried if I’m not back soon.”

“Very well,” said Regina, “Just know that the offer still stands.” She eyed the woman’s satchel almost expectantly. 

Arcadia felt a sudden weight in her hands and gasped upon finding the bag full again, albeit with different vegetables, and even a handful of eggs. She rummaged through it in wonder. 

“By the Gods. I can’t thank you enough—”

She looked up, but the Queen was gone. Being a skilled hunter, she scanned the forest carefully for any signs of the mysterious woman, but found none. The only evidence that Regina had even been there was the food in Arcadia’s satchel. A soft smile graced the archer’s lips as she held the bag close to her. 

“Bless you, Regina.”

After dismantling her makeshift tent, Arcadia darted off through the woods and towards the riverbank where her family had set up camp. It seemed her father was the only one awake. He was down in the river, spearfishing. He paused when he noticed her emerge from the trees and smiled warmly at her. He carefully made his way out of the river, his clothes dripping onto the dewy grass as he approached. 

“I take it you were successful?" he asked with a grin. He ruffled her hair playfully, making her blush.

“Must you do that? I’m not a child anymore.”

The man chuckled. “No, but you’ll always be my little Arcadia,” he said fondly, gesturing to the leather satchel. “Why don’t we go down to the river and wash these off?”

Arcadia smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

She removed her cloak and set it down alongside her quiver and bow. She quickly slipped out of her vest, leaving her with only an off-white tunic, tucked securely into her waistband. She sat alongside her father as they worked to clean the vegetables. She watched him closely as he dipped a head of lettuce into the water, unable to take her eyes off of the intricate lion tattoo on his wrist.

“Quite the bounty you’ve got here,” he beamed, freeing her from her trance.

“About that,” she said, “I wasn’t exactly successful.”

Her father frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? Your satchel’s completely full.”

“Yes, but this isn’t what I stole initially,” she explained, “I caught a woman sneaking around my camp. I confronted her. She was unarmed, but I still kept my guard up, just like you taught me.”

“That’s my girl.”

“She took back what I stole, but she gave me so much more.”

“Yes, I see that,” said her father, “but why would she take the food only to give it all back?”

“I’m not just talking about the food,” Arcadia told him. She looked at him with uncertainty. After a long span of silence, she finally spoke. “Where exactly did you say you found me?”

“Arcadia, I’ve told you this story a thousand times.”

“Please, Father. Just one more time.”

The man shook his head in amusement. “That’s what you always say.” 

He patted her knee gently and gazed out into the steady river. 

“I was out fishing when I found you, on a morning much like this one. You were in a basket, crying on the riverbank close to the King’s palace. It looked like someone had tried to drown you. Fortunately, they were unsuccessful. I took one look at you and I knew that my prayers had been answered. I asked for a child, and a child, I received. Not in the way I’d imagined, of course, by the Gods aren’t exactly known for their predictability.”

“You said it was near the King’s palace?” Arcadia asked, sounding apprehensive.

“Yes. Haven’t I always mentioned that?”

Arcadia gave a small nod. “Was— Was there a Queen?”

The smile fell from her father’s lips. “The Evil Queen, yes. She’s responsible for the Dark Curse.”

“You mean the curse that made all those people disappear?”

The man nodded. “That’s the one.”

“What was her name?”

“I dare not say it. It has been said that her name in and of itself is a curse.”

“Well, can’t you— I don’t know— write it down?”

Her father laughed. “What’s got you so interested in the Queen, all of a sudden? Afraid she’ll crawl out from the ground and gobble you up?”

Arcadia frowned. “You know that doesn’t scare me.”

“It certainly used to.”

The brunette sighed. “Will you please just tell me her name? Or write it in the dirt? I have to know, Father.”

The man held his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. He picked up his spear and began etching a name into the dirt before them. “There. Happy now?”

He looked back at his daughter and found her staring down at the name, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. The color seemed to have drained from her face. The man quickly swiped his boot over the name, concealing it with loose dirt. He knelt down next to the brunette and waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“Arcadia? Are you alright? Please, speak to me.”

Arcadia slowly met her father’s concerned gaze, though briefly, as she turned her attention to the vegetables she’d been given. 

“The woman who gave me the food,” she whispered, “She was a sorceress.”

“A sorceress?! Did she harm you?”

“No, Father. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Then what’s troubling you?” He was met with silence. “Arcadia?”

Once more, the brunette locked eyes with her father. 

“She said her name was Regina.”


	46. Chapter 46

“And you just let her get away?” asked Emma.

Regina nodded as she set a pitcher of fresh cream in the center of the table. “Yes, dear.”

“Why?”

“Because she needed to be with her family,” said Regina, “I wasn’t about to restrict her freedom. I got the vegetables back that she took from the villagers, but I gave her some of ours.”

Emma gaped at her incredulously. “Some? Half the garden is gone!”

“Yes, but there is still more than enough for us. Besides, it will all grow back, in time.”

“If you say so.”

Regina could sense her wife’s apprehension and placed a hand over the blonde’s in an attempt to calm her nerves.

“It’s going to be alright, Emma. I have a feeling she’ll be back, and when she is, I’ll be waiting for her.”

“You sound like you miss her.”

“Perhaps I do.”

Anything Emma was about to say was cut off by Henry emerging from his room and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he took a seat at the table.

“Good morning, Henry,” Regina beamed. 

She stood up and collected Henry’s plate, piling a fried egg and a slice of freshly-baked bread onto it before setting it down in front of him. 

The boy yawned. “Morning.”

“Hey kid,” said Emma, “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I just had a really weird dream.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell us about it?”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t remember much of it,” he confessed.

“What do you remember?”

“Just bits and pieces.” 

With that, Henry began cutting his egg with his fork and taking small, tentative bites. He seemed sullen. Emma and Regina exchanged worried glances, both of them keeping a watchful eye on the boy as they finished their breakfast. Emma climbed down carefully out of her seat and shuffled into her and Regina’s bedroom, leaving the brunette to speak with Henry. 

Having raised him, Regina was more adept at being a mother. Despite the joy marriage brought her, Emma still felt that she would never be good enough of a parent for Henry. She was afraid that he might resent her for giving him away, though unlike her parents, she hadn’t given him up because there was anything wrong with him. She’d given him up because there was something wrong with her. 

Regina moved to sit closer to Henry and placed a comforting hand on his back. He had pushed his plate away, despite it not being empty.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did you not like your breakfast?”

Henry shrugged. “I’m just not really hungry,” he said, not meeting her concerned gaze.

“Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Was it your dream? Did you have a nightmare? You know you can tell me anything, Henry.”

Finally, the boy looked up at her. “I dreamed that you had a baby,” he said quietly, “and that the King took it from you.”

Regina’s blood ran cold. “W-What?”

“It wasn’t just a dream, was it? Did— Did that really happen?”

Tears welled up in Regina’s eyes and she brought her arms around Henry, holding him close as if someone would try and take him, as well. She wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. This time, she would be strong. 

“Yes,” she whispered, “I had a child. More than thirty years ago.”

“What happened to it?”

Regina bit her lip to hold back a sob. “I don’t know,” she rasped.

“In my dream, I saw an old woman put the baby in a basket and send it down the river. It didn’t drown, though. It washed up on the riverbank. A man found it and it stopped crying. That’s all I remember.”

“A man? Do you know what this man looked like?”

“All I remember is he had a tattoo. On his wrist, I think.”

Regina’s heart nearly stopped. “Was it a lion?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, why? Do you know someone like that?”

“I almost did,” the Queen said cryptically, “once.”

She stood up suddenly, gently kissing her son’s temple, and with a wave of her hand, donned a pair of black leather pants and a matching vest. She let her hair down, as she’d begun letting it grow out as of late. 

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m going to take the horse out for a bit,” Regina told him, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Are you okay?”

The Queen smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just need to clear my thoughts, is all. Don’t you worry, my little Prince. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

This sparked a gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She transported herself out to the barn and worked quickly yet carefully to get the saddle on the new horse. It was a beautiful mare, entirely black, save for the patch of white on its forehead, somewhat reminiscent of a star. 

Henry had wanted to name her ‘Star,’ but then decided that was too generic. He had settled on ‘Midnight’ instead, which Regina found to her liking. For a moment, she’d considered naming the horse after her childhood steed, but there was only one Rocinante. She cooed softly to the mare as she climbed up onto the saddle, stroking that dark mane ever so gently. 

“Daniel would have loved you,” she murmured, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Midnight’s tail whipped from side to side as she trotted out of the barn and onto the warm, white sand. The sun was out today, shining brightly, but hidden just behind the clouds so that it wasn’t quite as intense. There was a light breeze, which helped balance out the sun’s powerful heat. Through Regina’s guidance, the mare wandered down to the colossal, mossy rocks where a couple of seagulls were resting. They flew off as the Queen and her horse approached. 

Regina tugged at the reigns and Midnight slowed to a halt. She carefully climbed down, letting the horse graze a bit while she made her way up the small hill and towards the shady apple tree at the top. Beneath it were three gravestones

The one on the left read, ‘Graham Humbert,’ followed by, ‘Sheriff. Huntsman. Friend.’ 

The one in the middle was marked, ‘Daniel Colter,’ followed by, ‘Beloved Stableman.’

The last one said, ‘Henry Mills,’ followed by, ‘Loving Father. Gone But Not Forgotten.’

She knelt down before the graves, closed her eyes and bowed her head. Tears slipped down her olive cheeks. 

“Oh hear me, great Goddess in the Sky. Please, give my regards to those buried here before me. Deliver unto them my deepest apologies, and may they rest peacefully were they lie. Please, Cavilthura, help me see. I know not what to make of the forest-dwelling thief. Open my eyes unto the truth. Rid of my heart of this festering grief. I must know, oh Warring Thunder, what became of the life stolen from me in my youth?”

Her mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of Arcadia. Could it be? Was the misguided thief the child she had believed long-dead? All those years, oblivious to her child’s mortality. She’d had a daughter. A daughter who was supposed to have been robbed of life, only to lead a life of robbery. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was far better than the alternative.

Regina brought a hand to her mouth so as to muffle her sobs. Her shoulders shook almost violently as she wept, both tears of pain and tears of joy. Before long, her sobbing ceased, and she began to laugh almost maniacally. 

“You lost!” she declared, “You thought you won by taking her from me, you despicable tyrant! But you lost! She’s alive! More than thirty years now, and my child is still alive! You mocked me for my faith, yet it was the Gods who spared her! They have granted me the opportunity to know the wellbeing of the child I thought lost!” 

She grew quiet once again. 

“They gave her a family, and for that I am grateful, even if that family didn’t include me,” she murmured, “Bless you, sweet Arcadia.”

She was too caught up in her own lament to notice the hooded woman watching her from afar. 

\---

Arcadia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It seemed her suspicions had been correct. This woman was the infamous Evil Queen, though from their earlier encounter, she couldn’t see Regina committing such heinous acts of violence and tyranny. No. Regina may have been a Queen, but she certainly wasn’t evil. Just misguided perhaps, but not evil.

Right? 

Peering at the brunette from behind a wide oak tree, she found that the woman was knelt down before three graves beneath a tree upon a hill. At the bottom of said hill was a black mare with a white, star-like shape on its face. It seemed to notice her, which she found both appealing and terrifying all at once.

If this woman truly was the Evil Queen, then the last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself. At the same time, however, Regina could have very well been the mother she’d always wanted. 

It was impossible to deny that they looked quite a bit alike. Even a blind man could have seen that! She knew she and her father didn’t share blood, but that didn’t matter to her. She was still his daughter, and always would be. What mattered to her was finding out whether or not the Queen really was her mother. If that was the case, then perhaps she could at least learn the identity of her birth-father. 

She was pulled from her thoughts when she saw the horse growing closer to her. This, in turn, drew the attention of the Queen. Gasping, Arcadia ducked back behind the tree, pressing her back to the rough bark and covering her mouth with her gloved hand. She stood there in dead silence, listening for the sound of footsteps, but none came. Even the crunching of leaves beneath the horse’s hooves had ceased. It was at that point that she began to wonder if the Queen had even spotted her. 

Slowly— silently— she went to peer back around the tree. The horse was now off in the distance, grazing near the bottom of the hill, but the Queen was nowhere to be found. Before she had time to wonder where the woman had gone, she felt a hand on her shoulder and yelped in fear, spinning around on her heel and stumbling back as she found herself face to face with the Queen. She landed roughly on her ass, staring up at the woman in shock and disbelief.

“H-How did you— please, don’t hurt me!”

Regina frowned. “I told you I wouldn’t do that, Arcadia. I promise you, I have no intention to bring you harm.”

“My father told me about a Queen— an Evil Queen— named Regina. You’re her, aren’t you?”

Regina stared off into the distance, not meeting the younger woman’s gaze. 

“I was,” she said quietly, “but that was so long ago.”

“Are you truly my mother?”

“It would seem so,” said the Queen, “I had no idea you had survived.”

Arcadia glared up at the woman. “You tried to have me drowned, didn’t you?” she hissed.

A mask of sorrow and pain fell over Regina’s face. “No, darling. I won’t deny that I did evil things, but even then, I would never dream of hurting a child. I have always adored children. It was the King who stole you from me. I never knew what He did with you. That was, dare I say it, more painful than actually losing you. I never got to hold you, Arcadia. I never even knew if you were a boy or a girl. Until now, that is.”

“The King did this? Why? Why would he want to kill his own daughter?!”

“Oh, He wouldn’t,” said Regina, “but that’s just it. You aren’t His daughter.”

“Then who—” 

Regina offered her hand to the thief. “Come. Let me show you.”

Arcadia took the Queen’s hand tentatively, but found that it brought her an odd sense of comfort. Was this the motherly warmth she’d heard of only in stories? The Queen helped her to her feet and they made their way over to the small hill.

“Wait. You mean my father— my birth-father— is,” she paused, “dead?”

“Yes,” Regina said somberly. 

Soon they were atop the hill, staring down at the gravestones with their fingers entwined. Regina looked at Arcadia with tears in her dark eyes.

“His name was Daniel,” she said softly, “He worked in the stables at my childhood estate. I loved him so, so much. I still do. He was the one who took my virginity, though no one knew it. I didn’t tell a soul. We planned on running away together and starting a new life, much like the one I now share with Emma. Alas, that dream died along with him. My mother ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it in front of me. She made me watch the life fade from his eyes. I tried to bring him back with True Love’s kiss, but it was too late.”

Arcadia was clearly appalled by this. “Y-Your mother did that?!”

Regina simply nodded. 

“Yes,” she said, “and then she sold me to the King so that she could use me to ascend the social ladder. I was her sacred cow. Her puppet. I was always more of a tool to her than a daughter. She was the reason I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to prove that I could be a better one. It was no thanks to Snow White, the King’s daughter, that Mother even found out about my relationship with Daniel. It wasn’t long after I was forced to marry the King that He found out I was with child. But again, Snow White spilled my secrets to that tyrant, and He forced me to drink a labor-inducing potion. I was only three months along when I gave birth to you. The magic caused you to grow at an unnaturally-rapid rate. Without it, there’s a good chance you wouldn’t have made it.”

She placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“But I’m glad you did. I can’t possibly express that enough. You look so much like him. Daniel, I mean. You have his eyes. His complexion. His kind smile. Gods above. Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are? How perfect?”

Apprehension masked Arcadia’s face. 

“I’m not perfect,” she muttered.

“You are to me.”

“You don’t even know me!” Arcadia snapped.

“No,” Regina conceded, “but I’d like to. I want to know your dreams, your passions. I want to know what makes you happy.”

The thief softened at that. “Oh,” she said simply, “Well, I, uh— I’ve always been fond of horses.”

Regina smiled brightly. “It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.” 

She waved her hand, and a tree branch reached down to her like an arm, offering a perfectly ripe apple. She picked it from the branch and held it up before Arcadia’s eyes. It gleamed beautifully in the sunlight. As if on cue, Midnight came trotting up the small hill, drawn to the apple like a moth to a flame. Regina offered the apple to Arcadia.

“Would you like to feed her? She’s rather fond of apples.”

Arcadia took it hesitantly, stroking the mare’s snout as she extended her hand. Midnight snorted, chomping down on the apple contentedly. Unbeknownst to the thief, a smile had begun to spread across her face. 

Regina felt her heart swell as she watched the two interact. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. The more she looked at Arcadia, the more certain she was that this was, in fact, her daughter. She was overwhelmed with what could only be described as joy. Of course she had been thrilled when she’d adopted Henry, and her love for him would never waver, but there was just something far more phenomenal about having a child of her own. Especially now that they were finally together. 

But with that joy came the guilt. 

It wasn’t her fault she’d lost her child. She knew that. Yet the blame was still there. This beautiful young woman had grown up without her, and she had been none the wiser. More than thirty years later, they were reunited. There were few things she would call miraculous, but this was most certainly one of them. 

Regina studied the woman carefully. Her round jawline, her nose, and her dark hair had come from the Queen, though everything else was unmistakably Daniel. She looked more and more like him by the second. She even had his smile. Her hood had fallen back to reveal a loose braid, tied back with a frayed, white ribbon. Her dark bangs fell to the right, partially-concealing her eye. They almost looked like a raven’s wing. She seemed to notice Regina staring at her and looked up in mild confusion.

“Is— Is something wrong?”

Regina shook her head. “No, no, everything’s fine, darling.”

Arcadia felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. Growing up without a mother, she’d never been called such things as ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart,’ but she found it quite endearing. Hell, she craved that sort of affection. Her father loved and supported her the best he could, but even that wasn’t enough to fill the hole in her heart— the tear that could only be mended by a mother’s love. 

Staring back at the Queen, she found tears in the woman’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Regina hesitated. “Yes,” she murmured, “I’m just overwhelmed, is all. I have a daughter. A strong, bold, beautiful daughter. If only I could have watched you grow up. I’m sorry, Arcadia.”

“For what?”

“For not being there for you. Believe me, if I had known you were still alive, I’d have been with you in a heartbeat. I don’t want you to think for a second that I willingly gave you up. Had I been stronger then, I never would have allowed the King to take you. That broke me, Arcadia. I felt so lost without you. So many memories I never got the chance to share with you. Your first steps. Your first words. I know I wasn’t there for you, but if you’ll let me, I want to be a part of your life.”

Arcadia hesitated. “Just tell me one thing.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know. That, I swear.”

“Did you really cast the curse that took away the kingdom?”

Regina’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not of my own accord. The Dark One forced my hand.”

“So, you didn’t want to, then?”

“I did at first,” the Queen confessed, “but then I learned of the terrible price I would have to pay.”

“…What was it?”

A single tear slipped down Regina’s cheek. “I had to crush my father’s heart, just like my mother did to Daniel’s.”

“Gods above,” whispered Arcadia, “You mean he— he made you kill your own father?”

The Queen could only nod, hugging herself tightly as the pain and guilt came flooding back into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut as a choked sob escaped her lips. She gasped when she felt a pair of arms slip around her, blinking in bewilderment upon realizing that Arcadia had pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“A-Arcadia?” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” said the young bandit, “I can’t even imagine what that’s like, though I really don’t want to. Gods, I’m so, so sorry.”

Regina just held the woman close to her, completely at a loss for words. Now that she had her arms around her daughter, she never wanted to let go. Alas, she knew she would have to at some point. What a shame that was. She brought a hand to the back of her daughter’s head, holding it gently. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she murmured, “I understand if you never forgive me.”

“No, you don’t have to—” 

“Get away from my daughter!”

Regina’s head shot up and she found herself staring into the angry eyes of a man whose arrow was aimed at her. Arcadia gasped and spun around, shielding the Queen with her body.

“Father, no!” 

“I told you, Arcadia, the Evil Queen isn’t to be trusted! She’s dangerous!”

“She’s not evil!” cried the young bandit, “She’s my mother!”

“And what proof do you have?”

“I just know! I can feel it!”

“That isn’t proof!”

“Well just look at us! Don’t we look alike?”

“Lots of people look alike, Arcadia,” the man argued, “That doesn’t mean she’s your mother! Besides, she’s much too young!”

Regina chuckled quietly, drawing the man’s attention once again. “I’m flattered,” she said, “though I’m far older than I look.”

“Let her go, witch! She’s done nothing to you!”

“Nor have I done anything to her,” Regina shot back, “and I’m not holding her against her will. If she wishes to leave, she may do so. I have no quarrel with you, archer. If you would just put that bow away, we could break bread and handle this civilly.”

The man faltered a bit. “Break bread? With you?”

“Yes, with me,” said the Queen, “as well as my family. Hell, we can invite the whole village. I want you to know that all are welcome in Godstown.”

“Godstown? I’ve never heard of such a place.”

“It was only founded a few months back,” Regina explained, “I named it in honor of the Gods.”

“Since when do witches honor the Gods?”

“If you believe those with magic are any less pious than the common man, then you clearly don’t know the first thing about magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic was given to us by the Gods. To use it, one must have at least some degree of faith in them. There are, however, some exceptions.”

“What ‘exceptions?’”

“Let’s say, for instance, a person is born from True Love. It was magic that brought them into the world, so magic will be a part of them from birth. Whether or not they know how to use it is an entirely different matter.”

She studied the man more closely. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Then it dawned on her. This must have been the man Henry had seen in his dream. 

“Forgive me. I never got your name,” she said. 

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Nor will I give it. I’ve heard the rumors. If you know my name, you’ll have power over me.”

“You’re confusing me with the Dark One.”

“You say that as though you’re any different.”

“Oh, but I am,” said Regina, “If I truly was anything like that imp, you wouldn’t be here insulting me right now.”

“You make a fair point, witch,” the man relented, “Very well. My name is Sir Robert of Locksley, but you can call me Robin Hood. Everyone does.”

“Sir Robert? You’re a Knight?”

“I was,” said Robin, “once upon a time.”

“Of whose court?”

“King Arthur’s.”

Regina was taken aback by this. “My, my. A Knight of the Round Table. I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Yes, well, that was a lifetime ago. I serve no one.”

“Perhaps not,” said Regina, “but do you still bear the crest?”

Robin hesitated. “Arthur’s crest, you mean? Alas, yes. It serves as a reminder of the man I once was. The man I hope never to become again.”

“So you changed?”

“Yes.”

“Then what makes you think I haven’t?”

Robin opened his mouth to respond, but promptly shut it. He lowered his bow and met Regina’s eyes with a look of ambivalence.

“If you truly have changed,” he said, “then prove it.”

“I shall,” said Regina, “Bring your family and come with me to the village. You’re more than welcome to dine with us. We’ll all have a feast.”

“You think a feast is going to win you my trust?”

“Perhaps not,” said the Queen, “but it’s a start.”


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! :D it’s my favorite holiday aside from Christmas

Robin sat stiffly in his chair, doing his best to ignore the Queen’s gaze. He was here only for Arcadia’s sake. If she truly was the witch’s daughter, then he supposed he could be civil. Somewhat, anyway. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Arcadia. However, he had begun to regret his decision to attend this banquet the moment he agreed. It reminded him far too much of his days in King Arthur’s court. Worse yet, the Queen wouldn’t stop staring at him. 

More specifically, she wouldn’t stop staring at his wrist. 

She was clearly trying to catch a glimpse of his tattoo, but he couldn’t even begin to understand why. He was attempting— and failing— to distract himself by taking tentative bites of the stag on his plate. He chewed slowly so as to detect any trace of poison. He found none. He wasn’t about to admit it, but the food was quite good. Hell, it was incredible! He could be civil with the witch. He just wouldn’t compliment her culinary skills.

Arcadia was seated to his right, at the corner of the table next to the Queen. He was growing increasingly-uncomfortable with this arrangement, but didn’t wish to upset his daughter, no matter how badly he despised the woman she was talking to. 

The Queen was seated at the head of the table, which reached all the way through the village. In reality, it was just a dozen tables pushed together, but this was nearly impossible to notice with all the dishes the villagers had brought. To the right of the Queen was the legless blonde, whom she had introduced as Emma— her wife. 

Robin still couldn’t wrap his head around that. Why would two women marry one another? What satisfaction could they possibly gain from it? What did they have to offer each other in the bedroom? Why not just settle for a man? He couldn’t even begin to understand how two women could find pleasure without a man present. The thought alone made him physically ill, a perfect excuse for him not to continue eating. 

Seated next to Emma was her and the Queen’s boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. Eleven, at most. He was listening curiously to the conversation between the Queen and Arcadia, which Robin had been tuning out as much as he could, only catching bits and pieces. 

“Henry will be eleven next month,” the Queen said, smiling fondly at the boy. “Speaking of which, you need to tell me what all you want for your birthday.”

Henry swallowed his last bit of honeycomb. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Just don’t wait too long.”

“So, what kinds of things do you like to do, Henry?” asked Arcadia. 

The boy’s eyes lit up. “I really love drawing, making blanket forts, and collecting shells from the ocean. Oh, and riding Midnight! Mom’s been teaching me.”

The Queen wore a proud smile. “Yes, and you’ve become quite the expert, my little Prince. Perhaps I’ll even show you how to ride without a saddle.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” said Regina, “but it takes lots of practice.”

Anything else she might have said was cut off by the quiet whine to her left. She looked down to find the wolf sitting by her side, staring up at her with pleading, mismatched eyes. She chuckled softly and plucked a good-sized chunk of stag from her plate, allowing the wolf to feed from her hand. 

“That’s incredible,” said Arcadia, “I’ve never seen a wolf behave so much like a dog.”

“Nor have I,” said the Queen, “but he is a very loyal companion, and an excellent judge of character.”

“Where I come from, we don’t allow beasts to dine with us at the table,” Robin muttered.

Arcadia frowned. “Father—” 

Regina placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s arm. 

“No, it’s quite alright, dear. I must admit, Robin, I understand where you’re coming from,” she said, “However, this wolf is not a beast. He is an important member of this family— of this community, even. He deserves to eat just as much as the rest of us. No one goes hungry in Godstown.”

“Well, I’m not going to eat with a wolf present,” Robin declared, rising swiftly from the table. “It’s bad enough having to dine alongside a bloody witch!”

Arcadia gasped. “Father!”

Emma’s eyes narrowed at the man. “Now look here, asshole—” 

“Emma,” Regina chided, “Don’t.”

“But he just—” 

“I know, darling,” the Queen said calmly. 

She locked eyes with the man. Her expression was entirely unreadable, a stark contrast to the obvious outrage masking his stubbled face. 

“I don’t expect you to understand our customs, Sir Robert,” she said, “but I do expect at least some degree of respect. I have brought no harm you or your family, nor do I intend to. As your host, I have done all I can to make you feel welcome. The least you can do is show a bit of gratitude. That is all I ask. Now, why don’t you sit back down and enjoy your supper like the rest of us?”

Robin stood there in defiance, his fists tightened and his eyes locked with the Queen’s in disgust. Arcadia clasped her hands around his fist, though he never once looked away from the Queen. 

“Father, please,” she said softly, “Just try to be nice. As a Knight, isn’t it your duty to be chivalrous?”

“I’m not a Knight anymore, Arcadia.”

“Perhaps not, but the Code of Honor is still engrained in you, is it not?”

Robin hesitated. “It is.”

“That’s what I thought. Now please, just sit down. For me?”

“Very well,” said Robin, “but know that I am doing this for you and you alone, Arcadia.”

Arcadia let out a quiet sigh. “Of course, Father.”

Robin hesitantly took his seat, doing his best to ignore the concerned whispers of the other villagers. He averted his gaze, seeing that the Queen was still trying to catch a glimpse of his tattoo. This made him even more determined not to let her see it. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He folded his arms over his chest and sat in bitter silence as angry thoughts clashed within his mind like a violent thunderstorm.

Again, Arcadia sighed. She turned to the Queen with a look of humiliation and remorse on her father’s behalf. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Feeling her mother’s hand come to rest upon her own brought her a sense of much-needed comfort. A genuine smile spread across her face, and she watched the Queen’s look of sympathy transform into one of complete awe, as if she was the most beautiful thing Regina had ever seen. Then she remembered the woman’s words from before. 

‘Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are? How perfect?’

Arcadia hadn’t believed it at the time, but seeing the look of wonder on her newfound mother’s face made it all too clear that the Queen had been genuine. Her mother truly loved her, despite having only just met her. She didn’t quite understand that yet, but she was grateful for it, nonetheless. If only her father could see the good in the Queen the way she did. Maybe then they could all get along. She’d always wanted a mother, and now she had one. She just had to get her father to see reason.

\---

“I’m staying here, Father,” Arcadia said firmly.

“I forbid it!”

“I’m a grown woman! I can make my own decisions!”

“Yes, but I am still your father, and I command you to return to camp with me!”

“Why? So I can sleep on the ground? Don’t you see? We don’t have to do that anymore! We can sleep in actual beds! We can have a roof over our heads! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course it is!” Robin snapped, “But not if it’s under that witch’s roof!”

“That ‘witch,’ as you so crassly put it, is my mother!”

“She— Gods! Fine! Do as you wish! Just promise me you’ll be back in the morning.”

“You know I will, Father,” said Arcadia, “Don’t think for a second that I would ever abandon you. I just need this right now. Alright? You know how badly I’ve always wanted a mother.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Robin said sadly. He sighed. “Forgive me, Arcadia. As your father, I want you to be happy, but at the same time, I want you to be safe. Don’t you understand?”

“Of course I understand, but Regina is no threat. I may not have known her long, but I can see the good in her. I can see that whatever she used to be, she certainly isn’t now. She was right, Father. You changed. Can’t she have changed, too?”

“I suppose so,” the man relented, “but you have to know that she was truly terrifying. She was a force of nature. A plague of darkness once dwelled within her, and I know it still does. I know because I was once corrupt, as well. Being a Knight made me feel invincible, like I could do no wrong. I was arrogant. I thought I was a God, Arcadia. I know better now, but those instincts live on inside me. They lurk in the dark depths of my mind, taunting me, just so I know they’re still in there. Every day I pray to the Gods for forgiveness, asking them to set me on the path of righteousness. All I want is to be a good father. I know I’m not perfect, but I do the best I can. I’m sorry for upsetting you. I just wanted you to know where I’m coming from.”

Arcadia offered the man a soft smile and extended her hand. He didn’t hesitate to give it a firm shake. 

“Thank you, Father. I appreciate your concern, but I need you to see where I’m coming from, as well. Queen or not, that woman is my mother. I want her to be a part of my life, but don’t think for a moment that I’m trying to replace you. You’ll always be my father, no matter what. Right now, I need to be with her. I want to bridge the gap between the two of you, but to do that, I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Arcadia.”

“Then trust her, as well.”

Robin hesitated. “Alright,” he said, “I will try, but that doesn’t mean I’ll succeed.”

“You will if you try hard enough,” said Arcadia, “Isn’t that what you always told me?”

A warm smile graced the man’s lips as he pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, clinging to her as if never intending to let go. He wished he didn’t have to. She may have been a grown woman, but it was impossible for him not to see her as the young, cherub-faced girl he’d raised as his own. He could still see her staring up at him, doe-eyed, with that toothless smile of hers. The memory brought a tear to his eye. 

“I love you, Arcadia.”

“And I you, Father.”

“Be safe.”

“Likewise.”

Arcadia bid her brothers goodbye and waved them off as they followed Robin back through the woods towards the river. She smiled as she watched them go. Despite being their big sister, she had always acted as a sort of mother-figure for them, due to her intense desire to have a mother of her own. None of the boys had mothers in their lives, either. 

Robin had once been married to a woman named Marian, who had given birth to Roland, his youngest son, but she disappeared one day. She left without ever saying goodbye. This crushed him. Marian had made him truly happy. Of course, his children did, as well, but he was never the same after his wife abandoned him and their child. He never did find out what happened to her. 

Arcadia watched them until they were out of sight. Turning, she found Regina waiting for her just a few yards away. The rest of the villagers had already gathered the food they’d brought and headed back home with their families, and by the looks of it, Emma and Henry had gone inside, as well. A pleasant warmth swelled in Arcadia’s chest as she noticed the fond smile the Queen was giving her.

“Why don’t you come on in and sit by the fire? It’ll be cold soon.”

Arcadia smiled. “I’d love to.”

Her smile widened when she felt her mother put an arm around her as they headed into the rustic cabin together. She shrugged off her green cloak and hung it on the rack next to the door, setting her boots aside before going over to the fireplace, where Regina pulled up a comfortable chair for her. 

“Thank you, Regina,” she said softly, though the name didn’t feel quite right coming from her lips, “for everything.”

The Queen placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re more than welcome, dear. Can I get you anything?”

“No, that’s alright,” said Arcadia, “I just want to talk to you, is all.”

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know.”

And Regina kept her promise. They talked long into the night, even after Emma and Henry had gone off to bed. It was nearly the middle of the night when they became exhausted, both of them in serious need of sleep. Arcadia still had one final question.

“Regina?”

“Yes?”

“Would it be alright if I called you,” the young woman hesitated, “Mother?”

The Queen’s eyes glistened with tears in the light of the dancing fire. She choked back a sob, nodding profusely.

“Yes, Arcadia,” she murmured, “I would like that very much.”

“Alright then,” Arcadia beamed, “Mother.”

Yes, that was much better. So, so much better. Her cheeks reddened as her mother cupped her face with delicate hands and planted a soft kiss upon her forehead. 

“I love you, Arcadia,” the Queen whispered.

“And I you, Mother.”

“Have sweet dreams.”

Arcadia chuckled. “Likewise.”


	48. Chapter 48

Arcadia awoke at dawn to find the wolf curled up beside her with his head resting on her stomach. She chuckled and patted the creature’s head gently. The wolf opened his eyes and promptly licked her hand, nudging her palm with his nose.

“Good morning, friend,” she murmured. She sat up and scratched behind the wolf’s ears, grinning. “Gods, you’re incredible. I’ve seen many a strange thing throughout my life, but never a domesticated wolf.”

The wolf climbed up onto the pallet of quilts and furs Arcadia had slept on. Regina had insisted she sleep in a real bed, but Arcadia declined. She didn’t want anyone giving up their beds for her. She’d slept on the ground most of her life. One more night wouldn’t hurt. Besides, the pallet she was on felt like paradise compared to the hard ground. She hadn’t slept so well since she was a baby. 

The front door creaked open and Arcadia looked up to find Regina stepping inside with a basket of eggs. A soft smile graced the Queen’s lips. She was completely void of makeup, but Arcadia found her far more beautiful this way. She possessed a natural beauty that most women would kill for. In that moment, with the sun shining behind her, she seemed more like a Goddess than a Queen.

“I’m sorry if I woke you. I was merely gathering eggs for our breakfast.”

Arcadia shook her head. “No, you didn’t wake me.”

Regina looked to the wolf with her eyebrow raised. “Was it you, young man?”

The wolf lowered his head and whined. 

Arcadia laughed softly, stroking the creature’s head so as to reassure him. “You didn’t mean to wake me, did you?” she cooed, “No, you were just excited to see me, is all.”

The wolf perked up at this, resting his head on Arcadia’s shoulder as she brought her arms around him affectionately. 

“So, what’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one. We just call him ‘Wolf,’” Regina explained, smiling fondly. “Why don’t you join me in the kitchen? We can talk while I make breakfast.”

Arcadia smiled. “I’d like to help, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I appreciate it,” said the Queen, “Thank you, Arcadia.”

“No. Thank you.”

Arcadia followed her mother into the kitchen, and in turn, the wolf trotted after her, staring out the window and into the garden. Regina set the eggs on the counter and reached into the cupboard to retrieve a pan. She cracked a couple of eggs into the steel pan and set the shells aside. She held the pan just above her hand, in which a small flame ignited, frying the eggs. 

Arcadia was visibly taken aback by this. “That’s incredible,” she said, her eyes wide with awe, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Regina chuckled. “Yes, well, it makes cooking a lot easier. I don’t use it all that much anymore. Certainly not like I used to.”

She stared out the window and into the distance as if reminiscing. A somber smile graced her lips as the flame in her hand vanished into thin air. The eggs had already finished cooking. She pulled a plate from the cupboard and slid the eggs onto it, handing it to Arcadia with a mirthful gleam in her eyes.

“Enjoy.” 

Arcadia grinned. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You’re very welcome, Arcadia.”

Regina watched fondly as her daughter took a seat at the table, realizing quickly that she hadn’t gotten the young woman a fork. She waved her hand, conjuring one next to Arcadia’s plate.

“Would you like anything to drink, dear? There’s a jug of apple cider in the pantry, or if you like, I could ask one of the neighbors for a glass of milk. We haven’t gotten a cow just yet, but we will. Hopefully soon.”

“Water will be fine,” said Arcadia.

Regina nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If Emma or Henry ask, tell them I’m out at the well.”

“Alright.”

The Queen headed outside with a steel bucket and made her way out back towards the town’s well. All were free to taste its untainted waters. She set the steel bucket down and reached for the wooden one, checking to see if the rope was secure, and began turning the crank so that it would descend into the dark depths of the well. She knew she could have used magic, but there was just something so immensely satisfying about manual labor. Growing up, she’d had just about everything handed to her. Certainly so when she was Queen. 

Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to be Regina. Not Queen Regina. Not Mayor Mills. Just Regina, the loving wife and mother. Regina, the farmer. Regina, the broken woman piecing herself back together with each passing day. 

Once the wooden bucket was full, she began drawing it back up. When it was in reach, she brought it towards her and carefully emptied its contents into the steel bucket, filling it nearly to the brim. With a smile, she turned and ventured back into the house, quietly closing the door behind her. 

She found Arcadia waiting patiently for her at the table, smiling that warm, sweet smile that was all Daniel. Seeing this made her own smile widen as she entered the kitchen to fill a cup with cool, fresh water. She handed it carefully to Arcadia.

“Some water for my daughter,” she smirked.

“Thank you, Mother,” Arcadia said with a chuckle, “You wouldn’t happen to be a poet, would you?”

“Oh, but I am,” said Regina, “and a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”

Her daughter’s eyes lit up at this. “Do you have any written down? I’d love to read some.”

The Queen nodded. “I’ve got some stored away in my room.” She waved her hand and several scrolls appeared on the table. “These are the few I have written down,” she explained, grabbing the oldest of the bunch. “This is one my father wrote for me. He would always read it to me whenever I was upset. Needless to say, it always made me feel better. Well, mostly, anyway.”

She unraveled the scroll and cleared her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to read.

“Sweet sapling, how I cherish thee. Darling daughter of mine, how it saddens me to see you grow. My perfect Princess, how my heart breaks, for one day, you shall be without me. Rare rose, as I take you in my arms, it wounds me, for I know I must let go.”

She paused, letting out a shaky breath.

“There shall come a day when my body will perish. Know that while I am gone, my spirit will never be far. I will forever be within your heart, ever-present for you to cherish. You are my light, my love, my shooting star. Each time I look at you, I thank the Gods, for they have blessed me with the most beautiful daughter in all the land. Your smile brings with it the sun on even the darkest of days. It is an honor and a blessing to hold your sweet hand. For you are my daughter, I will be with you, and love you always.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her sleeve. 

“Are you alright?” asked Arcadia.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Regina assured, “I simply haven’t read this in some time. I’m a bit overwhelmed, is all.”

“That was really beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

The Queen smiled. “You’re quite welcome,” she said, “Now, why don’t I get everyone up so we can all have breakfast together?”

She seemed to float as she walked, moving silently towards her son’s room and carefully pushing the door open. Stepping inside, she knelt down next to the boy’s bed and spoke softly so as to not startle him.

“Henry?” she murmured, “Henry, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up.”

The boy mumbled incoherently as he stirred, but his eyes remained closed. Regina shook his shoulder ever so gently. 

“Come on, my little Prince. We’ve got to have breakfast before Arcadia returns to the riverside.”

After another few minutes of persuasion, Henry finally climbed out of bed, though not without complaint. The sight of his mother’s arched eyebrow was enough for him to cease his protests. As Henry took his seat at the table next to Arcadia, Regina smiled and leaned down to plant a light kiss upon his temple. A blush crept onto his cheeks.

“Mom!” he fussed.

Regina chuckled softly and patted his head. “Sit tight, darling. I’ve got to wake Emma. I may be a while.”

As the Queen disappeared into her bedroom, Arcadia turned to Henry with a smile.

“So, what are your plans for the day, Henry?”

This seemed to bring the boy into full consciousness. He smiled back at the woman as he thought of an answer. 

“Well, Mom said she would take me horseback riding, and Ma promised me we’d collect seashells.”

“Tell me, which of them is ‘Mom?’”

“The Queen,” said Henry, “Ma— Emma— gave birth to me, but Mom adopted me.”

Arcadia placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re very lucky, Henry. Growing up, I’d have given anything to have a mother, and you’ve got two.”

“Well, you’ve got one now,” Henry told her, “I guess that makes you my sister.”

Arcadia grinned. “Yes, I suppose it does. I’m glad I met you. You seem like a very sweet boy. I think you would get along well with my brothers.”

“What are your brothers’ names?”

“Harlan, Tucker, Mathias, and Roland.” 

“Do you all get along?”

“Very much so,” said Arcadia, “I practically raised them myself.”

“So they don’t have moms, either?”

“All of us were adopted, save for Roland,” the young woman explained, “His mother, Marian, was married to my father, but she up and left him one day.”

“Do you know where she went?”

Arcadia’s smile fell as she shook her head. “Sadly, no. It broke my father’s heart. He hasn’t been the same ever since. I think that maybe, deep down, he’s afraid I might abandon him, too. I just want him to know I would never do that, but he’s always been a bit of a stubborn man. I may never be able to convince him.”

“He seemed like he was really mad at Mom,” said Henry.

“He’s just not fond of magic, is all, and as I’m sure you know, she was once the Evil Queen. I’m not old enough to remember her being in power, but my father certainly is. I can’t say whether or not she was the tyrant he claims she was, but I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she is good now. I wish he could see that.”

\---

Regina lied down beside her wife, gently shaking the woman’s shoulder. “Emma, my love, you need to get up.”

“Five more minutes,” Emma groaned. 

“Sorry, darling, but we have to have breakfast before Arcadia leaves. You can sleep all you like once she’s gone.”

There was a pause.

“You promise?”

“Yes, dear, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Regina could only chuckle as she helped— or rather, dragged— her wife out of bed and into the kitchen. Emma hoisted herself up into her chair with the aid of a small wooden stool that Regina had built for her by hand, a sentiment she appreciated more and more each day. Now awake, Emma happily dug into her breakfast the moment Regina set it down in front of her. 

The Queen raised an eyebrow at the blonde, just as she had with Henry, and Emma paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. 

“Slow down, Emma, before you choke.”

Emma took slow, small bites after that, unable to meet her wife’s gaze as a deep blush rose to her cheeks. Regina placed a comforting hand over hers, squeezing it gently and offering her a warm smile. 

“There. Isn’t that better?”

Emma let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah,” she confessed, “Thanks.”

Regina patted her hand gently. “You’re welcome, darling.”

The four of them ate together in comfortable silence, enjoying a meal of eggs, buttered bread, apple slices, and honeycomb. Regina couldn’t control the smile on her face as she realized just how complete her little family looked. If only her father had been there. She knew he would have loved to meet his grandchildren. He’d often told her she would make a wonderful mother. It became more frequent after what happened to her child. He mourned with her each and every day.

It was her father who kept her faith in the Gods alive. Had it not been for him, she would have turned her back on them long ago, for she felt they had turned their backs on her by allowing her to suffer. Now, however, her belief was stronger than ever. She knew this was probably as content as she would ever be in her complicated life, and in all honesty, that was just fine with her.

“So,” she said, “what do you plan on doing the rest of the day, Arcadia?”

The young woman shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it, honestly. I told my father I’d come back this morning, but I didn’t give much thought to what I’d do once I returned. I quite like it here.”

“Well, you can always come back,” Regina told her, “You and your family are welcome here anytime.”

Arcadia smiled, bowing her head in gratitude and respect. “Thank you, Mother. You’re too kind.”

Regina was quick to return the smile, placing her other hand upon her daughter’s. Something shifted in the air, bringing with it a warm and positive vibe. 

“It’s the least I can do,” she said softly.

And all was well in the House of Mills.

\---

Regina pulled her daughter into a tight embrace as they stood out in the yard, wishing she didn’t have to let go. The fact that she did made her eyes glisten with unshed tears. 

“I’m going to miss you, Arcadia,” she murmured.

“And I you,” said the young brunette, “but I won’t be far, Mother. I thank you for your hospitality and your kind words. I wish I could say you were welcome at my camp, but I don’t think Father would agree. Again, I’m sorry for the things he said to you.”

“Never apologize for the mistakes of others,” Regina told her, “I have found over the years that this, in and of itself, is a mistake.”

“You truly are a wise woman,” said Arcadia, “I love you, Mother.”

“As do I,” said the Queen, “so very, very much. Be safe.”

Arcadia smiled. “Likewise.”

Regina supplied her daughter with a basket containing half a loaf of bread, several eggs, some warm honeycomb, and a head of cabbage. 

“The other villagers and I have to go back across the hills before long,” said Regina, “We’ve got to get a cow from the farmers there. That’s where I got the horse and the hens. Perhaps you could join us.”

“I’d like that,” said Arcadia, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Wonderful.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“Likely within the next week or so. It will take us nearly an entire day to get there.”

Arcadia nodded. “I’ll try to be here on time.”

Henry hurried over to Arcadia excitedly and handed her a detailed drawing of the wolf in the forest. 

“This is for you,” he said, grinning.

“This is incredible, Henry,” she said genuinely, “Did you do this?”

“Yeah! I spent hours working on it last night!”

Regina arched an eyebrow at this. “I didn’t see you drawing last night. Did you stay up past your bedtime, young man?”

Heat rose to the boy’s cheeks and he began wringing his hands nervously. “Maybe,” he replied, “but it was worth it.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Well done, my little Prince,” said the Queen, “Just no more staying up late, alright? It’s no wonder you wouldn’t get out of bed.”

“Okay,” Henry agreed, “I promise I won’t do it again.”

Regina patted his shoulder gently. “Thank you, darling.”

“You’re very talented, Henry,” Arcadia told him, “Just like Mother. Perhaps you should draw pictures to go along with her poems.”

“That sounds awesome!” Henry declared.

“Indeed it does,” the Queen agreed, “All we need now is a bard to play music alongside it.”

“You know,” Emma said from the doorway, “I’m no ‘Slash,’ but I’m pretty good at guitar.”

Regina’s eyebrows nearly flew off her head. “You can play the guitar? Why don’t I know this about you?”

Emma simply shrugged. “Guess it just never came up. It’s been years since I played, though, so I’m probably a little rusty.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Regina. She snapped her fingers and an acoustic guitar appeared in her wife’s hands. “Why don’t you practice, darling? You can play while you serenade us on the way across the hills.”

Emma blushed. “You know I don’t like singing in front of people.”

“You like singing in front of me.”

“Yeah, because you’re my wife, and you love me, despite my awful voice.”

“Oh, come now, Emma. You have a beautiful singing voice.”

“I sound like a dying parrot,” the blonde deadpanned.

The others bit their lips so as to keep from chuckling at the comparison. None of them wished to upset Emma. 

“No, darling. You sound like an angel,” Regina assured her, “Your voice was given to you by Setona herself.”

Emma’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Setona?”

Both Arcadia and Regina spoke at once. “The Goddess of Music,” they said in unison.

Regina smiled proudly at her daughter. “It pleases me that you know your Gods.”

“Yes, well, I may not have prayed in some time, but my knowledge of such subjects is extensive,” said Arcadia, “Plus, I— I’ve found more than enough reasons to start praying again.”

“Oh, Arcadia, that’s wonderful!”

“The next time I’m here, I’d like to join you in prayer, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is,” said Regina, “I think that would be perfect.”

“I’ll see you soon,” said Arcadia, “All of you.”

Henry practically threw himself at her, hooking his arms around her. Arcadia chuckled and ruffled his hair playfully. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said.

“As am I, Henry,” the young woman told him, “but I promise I won’t be far. Thank you so much for the drawing. You’re a very talented young man.”

“You’re welcome,” Henry beamed, “I’ll draw you some more pictures before you come back.”

“I look forward to seeing them.”

Arcadia carefully slipped the drawing into her satchel, from which she retrieved a large conch shell, perfectly intact. It was white, and appeared to have been polished. She handed it to him with a smile, pleased to see the boy’s eyes light up.

“Here you go, Henry,” she said.

“Wow! Thanks!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I never saw you go down to the beach,” said Regina.

“After you went to bed, I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk in the sand. I thought I’d look for shells while I was there. I figured Henry would like to have some more. This was the only one I could see in the dark water. It’s certainly the best.”

The wolf trotted over to her and looked up at her expectantly with its mismatched eyes. Arcadia smiled and gently patted his head. He licked her hand and whined as if begging her to stay. It was like he knew she had to leave. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Wolf,” she said, “but don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t for the wolf to follow her through the woods. She kept looking over her shoulder, and each time she did, the wolf was closer. After a while, it trotted silently by her side. It was as if the creature wished to protect her. She chuckled softly.

“You truly are a loyal companion,” she said, “Thank you, my friend.”

The wolf nudged her thigh with his nose. 

“I suppose that’s your way of saying ‘you’re welcome.’”

They were nearly to the river when the pair noticed a large group of people occupying the campsite. A tired-looking man with a sword was speaking with Robin. He seemed incredibly bitter. Angry, even. The wolf began snarling in the man’s direction but Arcadia stopped him, not wishing to draw any unwanted attention. 

She started to reach for an arrow when she saw the swordsman shake hands with her father. She frowned in confusion. Who was this man? What did he want? What was he saying to her father? Where had all these people even come from? Arcadia didn’t recognize a single one of them, save for the mysterious swordsman. Something about him was oddly familiar, though she swore she’d never seen him in her life. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, overcome with an inexplicable sense of fear and dread. Whoever this man was, his demeanor put her on edge. She couldn’t bring herself to think his intentions were good. She turned her head, trying her best to catch even a hint of the conversation. The wind swiftly carried the sound to her ear.

“…murdered my wife. Kidnapped my daughter and grandson. She needs to die.”

Grandson? This man couldn’t possibly be a grandfather! He didn’t look much older than her mother! Arcadia froze. Then again, her mother didn’t look much older than her. Perhaps it was because of the curse. If this man had been cursed, then that meant he had a serious grudge against her mother. And unlike her father, this man had no reason not to try and harm the Queen. 

Her eyes widened in horrified realization and she promptly spun around on her heel, darting back through the forest as fast as she possibly could. She had to warn them. She had to warn her mother. She couldn’t bring herself to think about what might happen if she didn’t. 

She could hear her father calling her name, but it was distant, so she knew it wasn’t likely he would catch up to her. She never stopped to think that the swordsman might have a horse, or that he might gain on her in mere minutes. She never stopped to think that he might knock her unconscious with the pommel of his sword. As she felt it strike the back of her head, she stopped thinking all together. 

She was out before she hit the ground. 

“Bind her,” said the swordsman, “We can use her as bait.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: extreme violence and torture! This was very difficult for me to write. :(

Regina had fought as hard as she could, but with her magic snuffed out by the leather band on her wrist, she was no match for Charming’s army. Unlike his insipid wife, he was an expert when it came to battle strategy, but Snow had never bothered to heed his advice. The bitch thought she knew it all. He was just a stupid shepherd playing Prince. 

Not anymore. 

Now he was a King, and a cruel one, at that. He was a shell of the man he once was. He always looked tired, as if his body was screaming at him to go to sleep, and he refused every time. His eyes were sunken, with dark circles beneath them. There was an emptiness in those eyes unlike any Regina had ever seen, even in her own reflection. She never saw him smile, but she was certain she caught a flicker of mirth in his cold eyes as he picked up the whip.

Her wrists were shackled, held high above her head by a chain, which had been mounted to a sturdy branch. It was the only thing holding her up. Both her legs had been broken with a hammer and she’d been stripped down to nothing before being doused in freezing water from the river. She was being made to suffer as much as possible. She heard screaming, but at this point, she wasn’t sure if it was from her own lips. Perhaps it was from her wife or her daughter. It was impossible to tell. All she could think about was the pain, and the deafening crack of the whip as it cut through her flesh again and again. 

She hadn’t exactly kept track of how many times the whip had struck her, but she knew it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. She felt as though she had no more skin on her back. Just exposed tissue, oozing an ocean of blood down her broken, naked body. Her body was shivering from the chill of the icy water, but she was certain she’d bleed to death before she froze. The closest thing to warmth she received was the unrelenting fury radiating from the Shepherd-King like wildfire. For as long as he’d been beating her, he had yet to say a word. 

Leopold had always taunted her when He whipped her, trying everything He could to break her down. It had worked, of course, but even that hadn’t been as agonizing as this. There was something far more unsettling about the Shepherd-King’s silence. She still wasn’t quite sure if she was the one screaming or not. She’d lost far too much blood. It was making her mind foggy and blurring her vision. Or perhaps that was just the tears. Regardless, the blood-curdling screams were a haunting contrast to the dead silence of the man currently beating her.

“STOP IT! PLEASE, STOP!”

Regina was quite sure that sounded like Emma. Emma, she thought. Her darling wife. The mother of their child. Her Knight in Shining Armor. The love of her life. The light to her darkness. Her other half. 

She was pulled from her muddled thoughts by the sound of Charming’s voice. As unsettling as his silence had been, this was far worse. 

“Enough! I’ve told you, time and time again, that she deserves every bit of this! Insufferable, demented, murderous, back-stabbing, evil fucking witch!”

He emphasized every slur with a crack of the whip, each one harder than the last. 

“YOU’RE KILLING HER!”

This, Regina was certain, was her daughter’s voice. 

‘Oh, Arcadia,’ she thought remorsefully, ‘I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to witness this. None of you should. But I— I deserve it. The Shepherd is right.’

She thought back to where it had all gone wrong. The Shepherd-King had come charging into Godstown on horseback, his sword drawn, and his army had been right behind him. They were all well-armed. There was a clear strategy this time. They’d been preparing for this. For how long, Regina had no idea, but certainly long enough to pull off such an attack. Certainly long enough to overpower her cavalry.

They’d slaughtered all the men— even the ones who surrendered— leaving only the women and children alive, assuming that women wouldn’t possibly think of fighting back. Corpses littered the bloodstained village. The Shepherd had threatened to kill Arcadia unless she surrendered, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he meant every word of it. 

“You’re a monster!” Arcadia screamed. 

The whipping stopped, though only for a moment. Even that felt like a blessing, but Regina knew it wouldn’t last long.

Charming turned to face the young brunette with a sneer. “Excuse me?” he asked darkly.

“I said you’re a monster!”

“You idiot,” Charming hissed, “Do you have any idea what she’s done?!”

“I don’t care what she did in the past! She’s different now! No one deserves this! NO ONE!”

“She murdered my wife! Tied her to a fucking tree and hacked her legs off! Left her alone to die! No one deserves THAT!” the Shepherd-King roared, “Now unless you’d like to join her, you’ll stop screaming!”

Robin glared at the man from his place on the ground. His ankles and wrists were bound with thick ropes, as he had resisted when the Shepherd-King threatened to kill Arcadia. If he had known the man would do such a thing, he never would have agreed to the plan. It was his fault, he realized. If it wasn’t for his stupidity, none of this would be happening. 

“Don’t you dare threaten my daughter! This was not part of our deal!”

Charming narrowed his eyes at the former-Knight. “Quiet, thief! You played your part, and she played hers. Neither of you mean anything to me.”

“You told me no harm would come to her! You tried to kill her!”

“I merely threatened to,” said the Shepherd-King, “and as tempting as it is, I won’t kill the Evil Queen’s spawn. Her only sin is sharing blood with this wretched witch.”

He turned and raised his whip to continue striking the Queen, but his daughter’s voice drew his attention. He looked to see Emma struggling to free herself, but to no avail. She, too, was bound to a tree, though not to harm her. He only wished to keep her safely out of the way. Henry, too. It was for their own good. At least, he kept telling himself that.

“Let her go!” Emma screamed, “Arcadia’s right! You’re a fucking monster!”

“No,” Charming said coldly, “I am your father.”

“Cut the shit, Vader! You are NOT my father!”

“Yes I am!” the Shepherd-King roared, “And Snow was— is— your mother!”

“Like hell she is!”

Charming glared angrily at her. “She may not have been the best ruler, but she would have made a good mother!”

“She gave me up because I had no legs!” Emma snapped.

“No! She gave you up because she wanted you to survive! The Queen would have killed you!”

“Wrong! You gave me up because you wanted me to survive! But not her!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! It’s my fault you’re this way!”

For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence.

“…What?”

The Shepherd-King was unable to look his daughter in the eye. 

“After we took back the kingdom, Snow would always ask me if she was beautiful. Of course I always said yes, but one day, I didn’t answer quickly enough, so she drugged me. I had terrifying hallucinations. She suggested that perhaps the Gods were punishing me for my hesitation. I eventually found the drug she’d used and decided to get her back. I slipped some into her drink, just as she did to mine, but she never brought it up. That truly infuriated me, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t realize until days later that she was pregnant, and I felt extremely guilty for what I’d done. I felt even worse after you were born, because the moment I looked at you, I knew that by drugging her, I didn’t just harm her. I harmed you, as well. I’m sorry, Emma, truly I am, but I cannot allow this witch to go unpunished!”

“But she’s my—”

“I realize that,” Charming snapped, “and again, I’m sorry, but this needs to be done— not just for Snow’s sake, but for everyone she’s ever wronged.”

“Haven’t you done enough?!”

“No,” said the Shepherd-King, “Not even close.”

He raised his whip so as to strike the Queen yet again, but the second he did, he found himself tackled to the ground by Arcadia. He gaped at her in shock as she began slamming her fists into his face again and again. Angry tears streaked her reddened face. She was snarling like some sort of rogue beast.

“H-How did you—”

“Shut up!” she screamed, “Shut your damn mouth! MONSTER! You will pay for what you have done! All of you! May the Gods curse you, and all who wish death upon my mother! I only just found her! I will not allow you to take her away from me! The way Snow White took me from her! It was because of Snow White that my birth-father, Daniel, was murdered! Just as it was her fault that I was stolen from my mother’s womb by that wretched King Leopold! His name is a curse in and of itself! It leaves a bitter taste upon my tongue! You are no different! You whip the flesh from my mother’s bones without a shred of mercy! Have you no shame? No humanity?!”

The Shepherd-King’s face was unrecognizable at this point, battered and bruised from the relentless punches Arcadis was throwing. Several of his men surrounded the young brunette, intending to pry her off of him, but she swiftly drew his sword from its sheath and aimed it threateningly. 

“Come no further!” she snapped, “Or your King dies! This is not a threat, but a promise!”

The men backed away slowly, unsure what to do. Without their King’s guidance, they were all clueless, bumbling idiots, afraid of their own shadows. Arcadia pressed the blade to the Shepherd-King’s throat.

“Release my family,” she hissed, “Not just my mother. Emma and Henry, too, and the other villagers. You will pay for your crimes, you coward. You slaughtered all the men in Godstown, even the ones who begged for mercy, and you have the audacity to call my mother ‘evil?!’ How low can you possibly get? You sicken me, you vile piece of filth! Now, order your goons to release them!”

Charming hesitated. “Kill the witch,” he groaned.

“NO!” Arcadia screamed, jumping to her feet and dragging the Shepherd-King with her, using him as a human shield for both her and her mother. She held the man’s sword firmly against his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” she shouted, “One step further and he dies!”

“A—Arcadia,” rasped the Queen, “Don’t.”

“…Mother?”

“Don’t,” Regina said again, struggling to find her voice. It was hoarse from all the screaming she had done. Her throat was raw, feeling as though it was on fire.

“But, Mother—”

“No. Let him go.”

“But he tried to kill you!”

“I can’t say I blame him. If someone murdered my wife, I promise you I’d kill them, too.”

“I have to end him, Mother! I can’t just let him go unpunished!

“You will if you kill him. If he dies now, he won’t suffer. Besides, I don’t want you to kill him. Doing so would make you no better than him or I.”

“You are far greater than he is, Mother! He doesn’t hold a candle to you! He used me to get to you! He slaughtered all the men! Your back is nearly gone because of him! He’s a monster!”

Anything Regina might have said was cut off by the sound of a wolf snarling viciously. Arcadia peered over the King’s shoulder to find the silver creature stalking towards the man with a murderous gleam in its mismatched eyes, one the color of blood, and the other, death. The King gasped as the wolf lunged towards him and began screaming in agony when the creature’s fangs pierced his leg, sinking deep through the tissue and splitting the bone. 

“Get it off me!” he roared. 

The second his men moved closer to aid him, Arcadia grabbed him by the hair and mercilessly slashed his throat. He let out a strangled cry as he collapsed onto the ground, bleeding profusely. His eyes were wide with utter terror. His mouth was agape, forever frozen in a silent scream. Blood seeped from his lips like a broken faucet, and his throat was a crimson river. His leg had been torn to shreds as easily as the leather pants he wore. The wolf released him and went to stand alongside Arcadia, growling at the cowering men. 

Robin stared up at his daughter in shock and disbelief. “Arcadia….”

“No,” said the young brunette, “If it hadn’t been for you, Father, none of this would have happened. How could you do that?! You let him use me as bait! You let him use me as a tool against my own mother! Why?! Do you have any idea how that feels? DO YOU?!”

Robin found that he could no longer meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Arcadia. I had no idea he would threaten you. Had I known, I never would have agreed. All I wanted was to get rid of the Queen so that you wouldn’t abandon me. So that we could be a family again.”

Arcadia let out a heavy sigh. “Do you honestly think I would abandon you? I told you, you’re my father, and nothing will ever change that, but Regina is my mother, and nor will that ever change. If you truly believed we were growing apart, you never would have considered doing something like this. This is absolutely heinous, Father! Have you no shame? No sense of decency? I thought Knights were supposed to have mercy on all, even their most bitter of rivals!”

“I’m not a Knight, Arcadia!” Robin argued, “I haven’t been in years!”

“What was it you always said? ‘Once a Knight, always a Knight?’”

“Yes, well, things change. People change.”

“If you truly believed that,” Arcadia said coldly, “then why wouldn’t you give my mother a chance? Why would you allow something so gruesome to happen to her?! Why couldn’t you just be civil?!”

“Because she doesn’t deserve you!”

Fury flashed across Arcadia’s face. “E-Excuse me?!”

“I said she doesn’t deserve—”

Arcadia leapt forward and grabbed her father’s tunic, hoisting him up off the ground in a rage. She was seething. Her teeth were bared like those of the wolf. Her eyes were eclipsed with anger. She almost looked mad. She looked like the Evil Queen.

“Don’t you EVER let me hear you say that again!” she hissed, “I love you, Father, I truly do, but you have made many mistakes on this day that I simply cannot forgive. Perhaps, in the future, but certainly not anytime soon. You claim you were trying to keep our family together, yet your actions have proven otherwise.”

She released his shirt, letting him fall to the ground without so much as a hint of grace. Her eyes grew cold. Her face was stoic and unreadable. She didn’t even seem angry anymore. She was emotionless, like a statue. 

“Arcadia—”

“No,” she said bitterly, “I’m going to help my mother now. If you are willing to be civil, you can stay, but if you show her so much as a shred of disrespect, then you can just leave. Leave and don’t come back. Again, Father, I do love you, but you have— how you say— ‘fucked up.’ Royally so.”

Robin’s head fell in shame. “I’m sorry, Arcadia.”

“Then prove it.”

“What must I do?”

Arcadia looked from her father to her mother, whom she promptly freed by cutting through the chain off of the shackles with the Shepherd-King’s blade. Unable to stand, Regina fell back, whimpering when Arcadia caught her, narrowly missing her mutilated back. 

“Grab the bastard’s hand,” she said, “He put the cuff on her. Only he can take it off.”

Robin, with his wrists still bound, managed to take hold of the Shepherd-King’s hand and after a bit of a struggle, he was able to remove the leather band from the Queen’s wrist. The second it was off, a purple radiance enveloped the Queen’s bare, broken body and began to mend her wounds. Her eyes slipped shut and tears fell silently down her cheeks.

“Arcadia,” she rasped.

“I’m here, Mother,” the young brunette said quickly, “I’m right here.”

“I’m,” Regina paused, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For never being there for you.”

“Mother, we’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” said Regina, “but just about everything else was. I’ve done terrible things, my darling girl, but I want to make it right. For you. For Henry. For Emma. For everyone. I don’t want to be a villain anymore. The last thing I want is to see you go down that same dark path, Arcadia. I love you, more than you can possibly imagine. We don’t have to be villains. We don’t have to have vengeance. We can have justice. We can have peace.”

She struggled to find words as she fought back tears.

“We can be heroes,” she lilted, “Just for one day.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this story, but don't worry! I am definitely writing a sequel (possibly several, but no promises)! I just feel this is a nice way to wrap up this installment so it doesn't get too long or complicated in a single story. I am in love with this and have no intention of abandoning it. However, I have been considering writing a different story based on my favorite film, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, as I love the idea of adding OUAT characters to that universe. I think that would be amazing, and I've already got an outline for it. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Big thank you to everyone who stuck with this wild rollercoaster of a story.

Regina was lying in bed, still recovering from her injuries when Emma came rolling in on her skateboard. She offered the blonde a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Emma climbed onto the bed and squeezed the brunette’s hand gently.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Not nearly as miserable as I was,” said Regina, “but my magic isn’t healing me as quickly as I’d like it to. I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Why don’t we try True Love’s Kiss?” Emma asked her, “Maybe that’ll work.”

“Perhaps,” said the Queen, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.”

Their lips met in a soft kiss, and their combined magic whirled around them like a cyclone of purple and gold. Even after Regina’s body had healed, they continued to kiss one another almost hungrily, clutching at each other’s faces in passionate desperation. They only stopped when they heard someone clearing their throat and looked to see Henry loitering awkwardly in the open doorway. He was blushing profusely, which would have been adorable had his eyes not been full of worry. 

“What is it, Henry?” asked Regina.

“Arcadia and the other villagers interrogated Charming’s army,” the boy explained, “She said she needed to talk to you about it, and that it was super important.”

“Where is she?”

“Right here,” Arcadia said, appearing behind Henry. She patted his shoulder gently. “Thank you, Henry.”

“No problem.”

Henry slipped away into the kitchen, likely to sneak food, but Regina decided to let it go. He had witnessed far too much trauma that day. The least she could do was let him splurge a bit. Perhaps that was his way of coping. She made a mental note to speak with him later. First, she needed to speak with her daughter.

“Are you well, Mother?”

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” said Regina, “but let’s not worry about me at the moment. Did you find out how Charming and his people got here?”

Arcadia gave a slow nod and reluctantly reached into her satchel. She held up a tiny object for Regina and Emma to see. Emma blinked at it curiously, unsure what it was. Regina, on the other hand, seemed completely taken aback. 

“By the Gods,” rasped the Queen, “It’s— It’s a—”

“A what?” asked Emma.

“A magic bean,” said Arcadia, “Father used to tell me stories about these, and how they were grown by giants at the top of a colossal beanstalk.”

Emma blinked in surprise. “Beanstalk? You mean like Jack and the beanstalk?”

Arcadia nodded. “It is said that there are few left in existence, as most of them died along with the giants, but as you can see, the King managed to get his hands on some. His soldiers claim they don’t know where he got them, but the villagers are interrogating those monsters as we speak.”

Regina studied her daughter carefully, noting the sullenness in her eyes and the tight smile on her pale lips. Clearly, Arcadia was going through a difficult time, and she needed her mother’s love and support. Regina was more than happy to provide it.

“Emma,” Regina said softly.

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you go check up on Henry? There’s something I need to discuss with Arcadia.”

Emma nodded. “Sure thing. Let me know if you need anything.” 

She leaned over and kissed Regina softly on the cheek, earning a warm smile from the brunette. She then made her way off the bed, rolling across the floor on her skateboard yet again. Arcadia stepped aside so that she could pass, and once she was out of the bedroom, she heard the door click shut behind her. A sad smile graced her lips. She already had a feeling she knew what her wife would be ‘discussing’ with the young bandit.

“Arcadia?” Regina asked quietly.

“Yes, Mother?”

The Queen patted the bed. “Come here, darling. Sit with me.”

Arcadia took a seat on the edge of the mattress, sitting close to the recovering Queen. She saw Regina offer a hand to her, so she gladly took it and placed the magic bean into her mother’s hand. 

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” she whispered, “I saw my father speaking with the King and I tried to warn you, but I was knocked unconscious. I—”

She paused when she felt the Queen’s hands clasp around her own. The older woman offered her a somber smile and a look of sympathy.

“Don’t apologize, Arcadia,” murmured Regina, “This was not your fault.”

“Perhaps not,” said Arcadia, “but I— I killed him, Mother. I took another man’s life. Granted, he deserved it, but the guilt is eating away at me. I feel ill. It hurts.”

Tears streaked her pale cheeks, and she blinked in surprise as her mother reached up to wipe them away, gently cupping her face. 

“Look at me, darling,” the Queen said softly, “I understand what you’re going through, believe me. I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want you to suffer as I have, but alas, we cannot change the past. We can, however, shape our future. I want to be there for you, Arcadia. I thought I’d lost you all those years ago, but now that I’ve found you, I don’t ever want to let go. I love you, lambkin.”

Arcadia was visibly confused by this. “Lambkin?”

Regina smiled sadly as she reminisced. “That’s what I always called you,” she said, “because like a lamb, I saw you as innocent. Pure. When I thought you had been killed, I often told myself you were too good for this cruel world, and that you were at peace with the Gods. It was painful, of course, but it brought me some semblance of comfort.” 

Now tears were slipping down her own face. She kissed her daughter’s forehead sweetly.

“I am grateful you’re alive, Arcadia. I’m grateful we got to meet each other. I’m grateful that we’re finally together,” she whispered, “though it wounds me to see you in such agony. I want to heal your heart as you have healed mine, my beautiful girl.”

She brought her arms around her daughter, pulling her close. Arcadia did the same, careful to avoid her mother’s recovering wounds. 

“You may have taken a life,” Regina whispered, “but it was to save another. As terrible as it sounds, some sacrifices are necessary. I don’t want you to spend your whole life feeling guilty, Arcadia. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“As do I,” said the young brunette, “but in finding my mother, I’ve lost my father.”

“What he did was wrong,” said Regina, “there’s no denying that, but I’m willing to give him another chance. As twisted as his actions were, his hatred towards me is not unfounded. I won’t deny that I’ve done terrible things. The cruelest thing I’ve ever done is leave Snow White to die in the forest, but I would never do that to anyone else. Not even her insipid husband, despite the way he whipped me back there. He claimed to have the moral high-ground, yet he beat me within an inch of my life and slaughtered all the men. He killed fathers, brothers, sons, uncles— even grandfathers. Even when they surrendered, he had them executed. I would never dream of doing such a thing. If ever an enemy surrendered to me, their life would be spared.”

Arcadia stared at her mother in awe. “Bless you, Regina Mills,” she rasped, “May the Gods smile upon you, always.”

“And you as well, sweet Arcadia,” said Regina. Determination flickered in her eyes. “Once I recover, I’d like to go on ahead and get a cow, and when I return, I want to build a temple.”

“Wouldn’t it be much simpler to make one now? With magic?”

“It would,” Regina agreed, “but I want to build it by hand. I’ve decided to give up magic, unless it’s to defend our people. I find there’s just something incredibly satisfying about doing manual labor. Besides, the Gods blessed me with hands. I might as well put them to good use.”

Arcadia’s eyes widened as if in realization. “Gods, how could I possibly forget?” She reached into her satchel and retrieved a small black book. “I found this on that wicked King,” she explained, flipping quickly through the worn pages, “He had a spell marked in here somewhere. Ah! Here it is. It says something about restoring lost things. There’s even a section about lost limbs. I was thinking that maybe it could give Emma her legs back. The King seemed to be thinking the same thing.”

She met her mother’s eyes and found them flooding with fresh tears. 

“Bless you, Arcadia,” said the Queen, “You truly are a gift from the Gods.”

Arcadia smiled halfheartedly. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” said Regina, “Actually, no. I know so. We must show this to Emma.”

\---

Emma couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around any of this. It was Charming— her own father— who had been responsible for her disability (God, she hated that word). It was Charming who had slaughtered the men and nearly beaten her wife to death. 

And yet, it was Charming who had brought with him the salvation to her lifelong struggle. 

Emma stared at the pink elixir in wonder. This was it. This was the potion that would give her what she’d always wanted. Strangely enough, she found herself reluctant to drink it. Twenty-eight years of suffering, and all she had to do was drink some potion? It seemed impossible, and yet she had taken potion before. She had also gone through a magic hat-portal, felt her wife’s ‘magic fingers,’ and even brought said wife back from near-death— twice, now. Why was she so hesitant? What did she possibly have to lose?

Regina sensed her wife’s conflicting emotions and offered the blonde a look of sympathy and understanding. 

“You don’t have to drink it, Emma, if you don’t want to,” she said softly, “I just want you to be happy.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, it’s just— I feel guilty,” she said, “for having an opportunity that people like me will never be able to have.”

Regina knelt down before her wife, placing her hands on Emma’s shoulders reassuringly. 

“Oh, Emma,” she murmured, “How noble of you, my sweet Knight. I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but don’t you think you deserve it? You have no reason to feel guilty, my love. Do what you think is right. Just know that you deserve this. You’ve suffered enough. This will change all that. Your life will be so much easier, I promise.”

“Alright,” Emma said slowly, “Bottoms up.” 

She lifted the chalice to her lips and downed the pink liquid in seconds. It had a sweet taste, though she couldn’t come up with anything to compare it with. Whatever it was, she quite liked it. It was enigmatic, as if it was its own category of flavor. It was unique, just like her. The moment she swallowed the last of the potion, her entire body began to tingle, emitting an almost-blinding pink radiance. She blinked up at Regina in confusion as her vision began to blur and the room started to spin. 

\---

Her eyes flew open and she found herself lying in bed with the wolf licking her toes. For a moment, she merely brushed this off, but then it dawned on her. She shot up suddenly, startling the wolf as she stared down at her long, smooth, slender legs. Tears welled up in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she was at a loss for words. Nothing she said could have possibly described exactly how she was feeling in that moment. 

She stared at her feet in pure wonder, and when she thought about moving them, they moved. She gasped, shocked by this seemingly-miraculous discovery. Of course she knew the basic functions of the brain and how it connected with her nerves, but a life without legs had made it impossible for her to fully understand the intricacies of her own anatomy. It was truly breathtaking, suddenly having a pair of legs at long last. Her tears slipped down her cheeks as she urged her toes to wiggle. 

And they did. 

Regina came walking to the room and paused the moment she laid eyes on her wife. A bright smile graced her plush lips. 

“How are you feeling, my love?”

Emma stared up at the brunette in wonder. “I— I can’t even describe it,” she breathed, “All I can say is that it’s incredible, but that doesn’t do it justice. Thank you, Regina. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t possibly thank you enough for this. I’ll never stop for as long as I live.”

“Thank me by standing up,” Regina said softly, “Stand up and walk over to me. I have to see it for myself.”

Emma willed her new legs to move, and they did. She willed herself to stand, and— well— she almost did. She fell onto the bed, flat on her back, and groaned. Still, she tried again. And again. And again. On the fifth attempt, she took a different approach. 

She grabbed onto the bedside table and held on for dear life, grunting as she hoisted herself up as best as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking she was about to fall again, but after a few moments, she opened them to find she was still standing. She grinned ecstatically and turned to look at her wife with bright, tearful eyes. Regina was smiling lovingly at her.

“I’m proud of you, Emma. Now, come to me, my love.”

And Emma did. It took her a few minutes to find and maintain her balance, but in the end, it was well worth the effort. She wobbled and swayed a bit as she took careful steps from the bed and towards the door where her beautiful wife stood waiting for her. Then, at long last, she reached her destination. Regina reached out her hands, and Emma gladly took them. Out of the blue, Emma began to laugh uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

“You’re actually shorter than me,” Emma teased.

Regina chuckled, blushing a bit. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are t—”

Regina raised an eyebrow at this, cutting Emma off mid-sentence. The blonde blinked at her for a moment before bursting into laughter yet again.

“Are too!”

“Emma, I swear—”

Now Regina was cut off as Emma’s lips slammed against hers in earnest. Their hands tangled in each other’s hair and Emma practically dragged Regina inside, shutting and locking the door before ushering the brunette back towards the bed. In her desperation, Emma seemed to have little, if any, difficulty walking.

For the first time in their relationship, Regina found herself staring up at her wife as they fell onto their bed together. She was immediately overwhelmed with desire, and judging by the groaned that escaped her wife’s lips, Emma felt it, too. 

“God,” Emma breathed, “I want you so fucking bad. You’re so beautiful, Regina. So perfect. You’re just so fucking amazing.”

“What is it that you want, Em-ma?” the brunette purred, “Do you want to fuck me?”

This seemed to catch Emma off-guard. “Do I want— but— don’t you usually do that?”

Regina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “Tonight is far from usual, don’t you think?”

“Totally.”

The brunette’s arms snaked around her wife’s shoulders. “Take me, Emma.”

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. “H-How do you want it?”

Regina flicked her wrist and a familiar leather cock appeared, fastened to her wife’s hips. Both women gasped, not used to seeing it on Emma. The sight of it alone made Regina’s mouth water. 

“I’ve never allowed anyone to use this glorious tool on me,” she uttered, “but now I want you to fuck me with it. Hard. Fast. Rough. I want to see if you’ve learned anything from me.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” Emma groaned, “Can you make it where I can feel it?”

Regina snapped her fingers, and in an instant, Emma let out a sharp gasp.

“Jesus, that feels so weird! But I— oh God, it’s so fucking good.”

“I told Arcadia I wouldn’t use magic unless it was to defend our people,” Regina said with another wave of her hand, “but I suppose this counts. I’m defending our people’s ears from the trauma of hearing their Queens make love.”

“No,” Emma breathed, “This is gonna be us fucking like rabbits.”

Regina scoffed. “How eloquent, Miss Swan-Mills.”

Emma’s lips twitched into a smirk. “I’m flattered, Your— My— Majesty,” she said, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to—”

She was cut off by a knock at the door. 

“Mom?” It was Henry. “When’s dinner? I’m hungry.”

“J-Just a moment, sweetheart,” Regina told him.

“Okay.”

After hearing the boy wander off, both women sighed. Regina offered her wife a look of sympathy.

“Sorry, Emma,” she whispered, kissing the blonde softly, “It looks like we’re going to have to postpone this for a little while, but don’t you worry. As soon as everyone’s finished eating, we’ll pick up where we left off, and you can have me. All of me.”

Emma let out a pleasured groan. “God, I love you.”

Regina smiled. “I’m not God, darling.”

“Oh, but you are to me.”

\---

The two women emerged from the bedroom minutes later, hand in hand. Henry and Arcadia were seated at the table, each of them gaping at Emma in wonder as she walked on a shaky pair of legs.

“Wow, Ma! It really worked! How does it feel?”

Emma grinned as joyful tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s incredible,” she murmured, “Absolutely incredible. I don’t think it’s possible for me to be any happier than I am right now.”

Regina kissed her cheek gently, causing her to blush. “I can feel the happiness flowing off of you in waves, my love.”

Emma’s grin only widened when their eyes met, and she squeezed her wife’s hand even tighter. 

“I thought I knew you, but then we kissed,” she murmured, overwhelming the both of them with déjà vu. “I was a stranger unto you, and you unto me. I came to you in your crypt, beneath the melancholy mist. In the shadows of your mind, you were a prisoner, but it was my love that set you free. In my arms, you came close to death. In my arms, I held you tight. It was my love that preserved your dying breath. To your darkness, I bring light. In my hands, I hold your blessed heart. My love for you is rivaled only by my love for our children, both daughter and son.”

\---

Arcadia awoke in the dead of night, donning her green cloak and the hunting knife her father had given her when she was eighteen. She crept slowly— silently— through the living room and out the front door, with the wolf in tow. She appreciated the company. Oddly enough, she’d heard Henry’s soft snoring, but not so much as a peep from Regina and Emma’s room. It was almost as if they had put up a spell to keep people from eavesdropping. She shuddered at the thought, not wishing to dwell on whatever was going on behind that door. 

She wandered out back to the forest, where the King’s army had been bound to the trees and gagged so as to muffle their cries of agony as the remaining villagers took hammers to each and every last one of their legs. The only one spared from this torment was Robin. As angry as she was with him, he was still her father. 

Nonetheless, he was bound to a tree, and his head was hung in shame. He reluctantly lifted it when he heard her approaching and met her unreadable gaze almost pleadingly. She’d have been lying if she said it wasn’t a little pathetic. 

“Father,” she said stoically. 

“Arcadia,” Robin whispered, “please, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“No,” Arcadia agreed, “but you made it this way.”

Again, the man hung his head. “I know,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just me you should be apologizing to,” the young brunette told him, “but I’m sure you already know that, don’t you?”

Robin could only nod, unable to look his daughter in the eye. “Please,” he said again, “Let me see the boys. You have to let me see them.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Arcadia retorted, but upon seeing the panic on her father’s face, she relented. “But I will.”

She moved past him without another word, but the wolf remained behind to keep an eye on him in case he managed to escape. He was Robin Hood, after all. He could get out of just about anything, just as Arcadia had before she’d murdered the Shepherd-King, whose body had been hung from a tree branch deep in the forest. Each villager— save for the children— took turns slashing, stabbing, and shooting arrows into his mutilated corpse. 

All of his fingers and toes had been sliced off, quickly followed by his feet and hands. If the stories were true, then his damned soul would wander through the Melancholy Timber, completely and utterly alone, and forced to hobble around on bloody stumps for all eternity, with the ashes of those he had so mercilessly slaughtered raining down on his head. 

So, too, would he be blind, as Arcadia had taken it upon herself to gauge his eyes out. Never again would he see the supposed beauty of his depraved wife. 

Both his ears had been sliced off by an angry young man called Johan, whose father had been savagely murdered by the Shepherd-King’s forces. Never again would he hear her voice.

His lips had been sewn shut with a dull needle by the Widow of Auric, the elderly Priest who had begged for his life, only to have it so viciously taken. Never again would the Shepherd-King express his feelings for Snow White.

‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.’

Or so the saying went. It was poetic, really, though the Shepherd-King would never escape his guilt. He would never go a day without feeling the pain he had caused so many others. Whether or not he saw it, heard it, or spoke it, he was possessed by evil. Perhaps he was the embodiment of evil itself. 

That was certainly how the villagers saw him. 

Arcadia couldn’t help the cold smile that graced her lips as she noticed the bloody hole in his chest where his heart should have been. She wondered if he even had one to begin with. Her smile, cruel as it was, only widened when she saw the word that someone had crudely carved down the center of his chest and abdomen. 

MONSTER.

It was impossible not to notice that somebody had deprived him of his manhood. Arcadia shook her head in morbid amusement, not wanting to think about who had taken it, or what they’d done with it. She couldn’t help feeling jealous, wishing she was the one to cut it off— while he was still alive. That would have been a sight to behold, though she knew there was nothing she could do about it. The deed had already been done.

Turning away from the abused corpse, Arcadia went to find her brothers at the center of the village. They were innocent in all of this. She had no grudge against them, nor did anyone else. They were being well-taken care of by the other villagers, enjoying warm chicken broth as they sat around the fire. They all looked up at their sister expectantly when they saw her approach.

“’Cadia?” asked Roland, “Where’s Papa?”

Arcadia gave the boy a sympathetic look, gesturing towards the trees. “He’s this way, Roland,” she said softly, “He wants to see you. All of you.”

“Is he in trouble?” asked Mathias.

Arcadia just nodded, offering her hands to both him and Roland. Harlan and Tucker followed close behind. When they reached the tree where Robin was bound, they were shocked to find him in tears. Never had any of them witnessed their father cry. They often wondered if he was even capable of it. It seemed they had their answer. 

Arcadia was still upset with the man, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a bit guilty. She knew she shouldn’t have been. He had brought this all on himself. It was just up to him what he would do next. Hopefully she could get him to see reason. Maybe then he would finally make the right decision. 

“Boys,” Robin said quietly, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“How come you’re tied up, Papa?” asked Roland. 

“Because, Roland,” said the thief, “I did something very bad, and now I need to try and make up for it.” 

Roland didn’t seem like he understood, at least not entirely. “I love you, Papa.”

“And I you, Roland,” Robin told him, “I love all of you, and no matter what’s happened— no matter what will happen— that’s never going to change. I promise.”

He locked eyes with Arcadia as he said this, giving her a pleading look as if begging for forgiveness. She would always love her father, but forgiving him was an entirely different story that had yet to be told. 

“Arcadia, please,” he rasped, “Give me another chance.”

Arcadia’s fists tightened. “Why should I?” she snapped, “You never gave Mother a chance, no matter how many times I asked you to, and then you betrayed her! In doing so, you also betrayed me! So give me one good reason why I should even consider it!”

“Because I’m your father,” said Robin, “and because I love you, Arcadia.”

“Well the Queen is my mother, and she loves me, too,” said the young brunette, “but apparently that wasn’t enough to keep you from letting a madman beat her half to death! Worse yet, you let him use me as bait! Do you have any idea what that’s like?! What am I to you? Am I your daughter? Or am I a tool?”

“I only wanted us to be a family again.”

Arcadia was seething. “I’ve already explained to you that we were still a family, but because of your heinous actions, I can’t help feeling that is no longer the case.”

The pain in the man’s eyes was evident, but still she persisted.

“I won’t say that I can never forgive you,” she told him, “but perhaps I will, one day. I need time.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “W-What are you saying?”

“I’m going to live with Mother.”

“But, Arc—"

Arcadia held up a hand, cutting him off. “No,” she said, “What you did was inexcusable. If you truly believed I was going to abandon you, you could have just said something to me instead of plotting to have my mother killed. By trying to keep our family together, as you claim, you only divided us further.”

She reached into her satchel and retrieved a folded item. Even in the darkness, Robin could see that it was the green cloak he’d given her ten years ago. She tossed it down at his feet. He just gaped at her as if she had stabbed him in the heart. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she said bitterly, “You betrayed my trust. I will no longer be a petty thief. I want to do something with my life. I want to be a good, honest person. I want to be somebody. Somebody important. Mother said I could be a hero. Yes, that’s what I want. I want to defend the innocent from the wicked, not steal from them and expect no consequences. Good people don’t steal from others, rich or poor. That makes us no better than the thieving royals you claim to stand against. I want no part of that. Not now, nor ever again.”

She turned away from him with a look of hurt masking her face. 

“Goodbye,” she said, “Robin Hood.”

She ignored the anguished pleas of the man she had once called Father, walking slowly back towards the house with tears blurring her vision. The wolf trotted alongside her, whimpering, but she barely noticed. She just trudged forward, moving beyond the cottage and down to the beach, where she sat with her knees to her chest. She began to weep openly. The wolf sat silently by her side, though after what felt like an eternity, he turned his head to look behind them. 

Arcadia noticed a faint orange glow and slowly raised her head, turning to see Regina standing there with a small flame in her hand to guide her through the darkness. 

“Arcadia?” the woman asked gently, “What’s troubling you, dearest?”

Arcadia hesitated. “I renounced Robin as my father,” she confessed. 

Regina gave her a look of sympathy and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, moving to sit beside her in the sand. 

“Oh, darling,” said the Queen, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come between you.”

“You didn’t, Mother,” Arcadia said somberly, “He came between us.”

Regina put an arm around Arcadia, pulling her close. “I won’t ask you to forgive him if you aren’t ready, but I don’t want you to push your brothers away. Know that they’re more than welcome here, if you ever wish to invite them.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mother. Thank you.”

Regina smiled, planting a light kiss upon her daughter’s temple. “It’s nothing.”

“No,” said Arcadia, “It’s everything.”

She moved to embrace the older woman, and they both held one another tightly, as if never wishing to let go. They were left with no other choice, however, when the wolf forced his way between them, demanding attention. The two of them shared a hearty laugh (and a much-needed one, at that). Out of the blue, Arcadia found herself remembering what Regina had told her earlier. 

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When you build the temple, I’d like to help.”

Regina’s smile widened. “Thank you, Arcadia. That means so much to me.”

“Which of the Gods will you dedicate it to?”

“All of them,” said Regina, “So that the villagers can worship whoever they please.”

“You truly are a saint.”

Regina chuckled. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” Arcadia retorted, leaving them both with a sense of déjà vu. She offered her mother a warm smile before looking up to the starlit sky. 

“You know, I’ve always liked to think of the stars as the spirits of those we love,” she confessed, “and that perhaps Cavilthura has embraced them in her loving arms. Does that sound foolish?”

“Not at all. It sounds beautiful, Arcadia,” said Regina, “Absolutely beautiful. Just like you, my darling girl.”

A light blush spread over the young woman’s cheeks, which Regina saw even in the darkness. The Queen kissed her forehead softly.

“I love you, Arcadia.”

“And I you, Mother.”

Arcadia toyed absently with her braid, which drew Regina’s attention to it.

“And you have such perfect hair.”

“That’s because I get it from you.”

The former thief held up her loose braid, gesturing to the tattered white ribbon that tied it all together at the end. 

“Do you see this?”

Regina nodded.

“It’s a piece of the cloth I was swaddled in when my— when Robin found me,” Arcadia explained, “I always thought of it as my one connection to my mother.” She took Regina’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m just grateful I actually got to meet you. You’re a wonderful human being who deserves to be happy. You deserve to live in peace. May the Gods smile upon you always.”

“Thank you, Arcadia. You are such a sweet girl,” said Regina, “and may they smile upon you, as well, my Princess.”

Arcadia blinked in surprise. “Princess?”

“Of course. I am a Queen, after all, and because you are my daughter, that makes you,” Regina grinned, “a Princess.”

“Princess Arcadia,” the former thief mused, “I like the sound of that.”

Regina chuckled. “Princess it is, then. Come on, darling. Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

Arcadia smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
